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ABELARD AND 
HELOISE 



ABELARD AND 
HELOISE 



BY 

RIDGELY TORRENCE 



NEW YORK 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

1907 

All rights reserved 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 

Tw» CoDtes Received 

PEB 23 190/ 

CLASS yi XXc, Ntf. 
COPY B. ' 



.063/^7 



Copyright, 1907, by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

Published, February, 1907 



TRO* OIRECTORr 
intihq add bookbinding COM^ANr 
NEW YORK 



\. 



TO 
MADAME ALLA NAZI MO VA 



SETTINGS 

ACT I. — Paris. The Old Isle de la Cite. A 
Garden Court Among the Houses Belong- 
ing TO THE Cathedral of Notre Dame. 
(A fortnight passes.) 

ACT II. — Fulbert's Villa at Corbeil. 

(Three months pass.) 

ACT HI. — The Garden of the Abbey of Argen- 

TEUIL. 

(Twenty years pass.) 

ACT IV.— A Road near Chalons. 



PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

FuLBERT, Canon of Notre Dame. 

Pierre Abeiard, Master of the School of Notre Dame. 
Arnulph Malart, a priest of Notre Dame. 
Gervase, Abelard's favorite student and friend. 
A Ballad Monger. 
Peter, Abbot of Cluny. 

Louis VII, Surnamed the Young, King of France. 
A Page. 

A Papal Nuncio. 
An Acolyte, 
astrolobus. 

Heloise, niece of Fulbert. 
Luce, her friend and companion. 
Jehanne, a flower girl. 
YsBEAU, a fruit vender. 
Gabriella, Abbess of Argenteuil. 
Monica ^ 

Cecile >■ Young nuns in the Abbey of Argenteuil. 
Teresa J 

Students, Towns-People, Relatives of Fulbert, Monks, 
Nuns, Soldiers, Courtiers, etc. 
Time: First part of twelfth century. 



ABELARD AND HELOISE 

ACT I 

A Court. Back is a highj massive stone wall in the centre 
of which is a gateway having a ponderous iron door 
which is now open disclosing a street. On the lejt 
of the court is the School of Paris into which leads a 
single doorway. On the right is the house of Fulbert, 
to which there is also a single door opening on the 
courty which is therefore completely surrounded by 
walls and has hut the three exits. Leading to each 
of the doorways^ both that of Fulbert'* s house and that 
of the school^ there is a flight of several steps. 

Ysbeau is seated upon the steps of the school^ counting her 
fruits. 

Enter from Fulbert'' s house Luce, hearing a jar from which 
she waters the flowers near the doorstep. Enter 
along the street the Ballad Monger , who halts in the 
gateway. 

YSBEAU, to the Ballad Monger^ offering her basket of fruit 
Ho there, a quince! 

BALLAD MONGER 

A ballad for it. 



2 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

YSBEAU 

Done. 

BALLAD MONGER, coming forward and holding out his wares 
Make choice. 

YSBEAU 

The newest. 

BALLAD MONGER, giving her a bright parchment 
Here then. 

He begins to select from her basket. Enter from the 
street Jehanne listlessly crying her wares. 

JEHANNE 

Marigolds — 
She sees Ysbeau, who is busy with the Ballad Monger and 
does not notice her. 

Ysbeau ! 

LUCE, rising from the flower bed and coming to her 
Jehanne ! ^ 

JEHANNE 

My Luce — 

They embrace and talk aside. 

BALLAD MONGER, bargaining with Ysbeau 

How many? 

YSBEAU 

One. 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 3 

BALLAD MONGER, eagerly 
Add then your lips. 

YSBEAU, evading him and running to the two girls 
What news? 

The Ballad Monger goes to the school steps and lolls upon 
them, eating his fruit. 

LUCE 

The school yet holds; 
The Master speaks to-day. 

JEHANNE 

When it is over 

She clasps her hands in ecstasy. 

YSBEAU, looking up at the school 
To think that cold stone husk could hold a lover. 

JEHANNE 

They think too much in there. 

YSBEAU, peering in at the door 

If I could see. 
My thoughts would bring my Etienne out to me. 

My boy, my rakehell blond 

A bell sounds. 

JEHANNE and YSBEAU together 
The hour! 



4 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

LUCE, who has been standing apart from them 

At last! 

The Ballad Monger picks up his lute and ballads and rises 
briskly. Jehanne and Ysbeau join him at the school 
steps with great bustle of preparation. 

YSBEAU 

Get ready all! 

BALLAD MONGER, with great importance 
Form here the line. 

JEHANNE 

Where's Luce? 

LUCE, apart from them 
I have no wares to sell. 

YSBEAU, to the Ballad Monger, who gets in front of her 

Ha, not so fast — 
Back, Ballads! 

BALLAD MONGER, with his attention eagerly upon the 
school doorway 

Here they come! 

YSBEAU, stamping on his toe 

Back Dreams. 

BALLAD MONGER, retreating with a start of pain 

The deuce! 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 5 

A party of students begins to enter noisily from the school^ 
and pass through the court into the street. 

JEHANNE, holding up her basket 
Blooms — buds — 

BALLAD MONGER 

A rhyme — 

YSBEAU 

Apples — 

BALLAD MONGER 

And songs — 

YSBEAU 

A peach? 

Two students enter arm in arm and confront Ysbeau and 
Jehanne. 

FIRST STUDENT 

Ha! Lips and eyes! 

YSBEAU 

Fruits? 

JEHANNE 

Flowers ? 

BOTH GIRLS, holding up their wares 

Which? 



6 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

SECOND STUDENT 

Both, from each! 

The two students draw the two girls aside and talk. Luce 
still watches the school door. A scuffling is heard within 
and several students are hustled violently down the steps. 

THE STUDENTS 

Who pushes? 

Voices from another group who follow them. 
We! 

FIRST GROUP 

By what right? 

SECOND GROUP 

English brawn? 

FIRST GROUP 

We'll try it, Germans. Up, good fists. 

SECOND GROUP 

Come on. 

Exeunt both groups brawling through the street gate. Enter 
from the school Gervase gayly dressed. 

GERVASE 

Air, air to breathe, I choke with smoke of thinking. 

LUCE, going to meet him 
Ah, my Gervase. 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 7 

GERVASE 

My Luce. 

LUCE 

What news? 

They talk aside. Enter another group oj students. Jehanne 
and Ysbeau leave the two students to whom they were talk- 
ing. 

JEHANNE 

Buds? 

YSBEAU 

Grapes? 

A STUDENT, to both gifls 

Hey, sweetmeats! 

SECOND STUDENT 

By St. John here's hues! 

FIRST STUDENT 

And shapes! 
The two students come down the steps to the girls, 

FIRST STUDENT, to Jehanne 
Do I not know you? 

The two talk aside to the girls, 

BALLAD MONGER, approaching Gervase, where he talks 
with Luce 

Music? 



8 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

GERVASE, looking him over with sublime insolence 

By what means? 

BALLAD MONGER, tapping his lute proudly 
This lute. 

GERVASE, pretending to examine it critically and then 
turning away 

A pumpkin. 

BALLAD MONGER, enraged 

Dancer of Orleans. 

GERVASE, turning upon him fiercely 

Goose Face of Paris, dare you utter quack; 
I'll give you titles till your beak is black. 
I, Gervase of this University, 
Hold in zoology a high degree, 

He ajjects to peer at the minstrel scientifically. 

A head — claws — legs to hop with — ah, I see! 
Species verminibus — a kind of flea. 

The Ballad Monger retreats in confusion to the street and 
exit, 

Gervase turns again to Luce. 

A STUDENT, entering from the school 
Where is my tidbit made of red and white? 



; 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 9 

Jehanne greets him with a glad cry and embraces him. 
Enter another student. 

SECOND STUDENT, ecstatically 
Ysbeau ! 

YSBEAU, rushing forward to him 
Ah boy! 

STUDENT 

You waited? 

YSBEAU 

Kiss me. 

He kisses her. 

ANOTHER STUDENT, looking at them 

Jesu! 

ONE OF THE STUDENTS, talking aside to Jehanne and 
Ysbeau 

To-night — at the mid-hour — you and Jehanne 
She bides to-night with Luce — there is her window. 

He points to Fulbert^s house. 

'Tis high, but I am Michael with the ladder. 

YSBEAU 

O craft! 

SECOND STUDENT 

But soft — or Luce will learn of it — 
Hist — close — then shall we melt into the night 
And dance till early gray. 



lo ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 



At night. 



JEHANNE 

But the gate's locked 



FIRST STUDENT, holding Up a great key 
The key! 

JEHANNE 

O wonder. 

YSBEAU 

And be ready 

JEHANNE 

I must be mouse and never waken Luce, 
She'd never let me go. 

The four draw toward the gate, whispering beside it. Ger- 
vase and Luce come down front talking earnestly. A great 
anxiety is upon Luce's face. 

GERVASE 

O smile sad Queen, it has not fallen yet. 

LUCE 

The buzzing grows, the town is held at bay, 

But for the proof's lack though they know the truth, 

And Fulbert cannot be forever deaf. 

GERVASE, losing his effrontery for an instant 
Poor Master^ 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE ii 

LUCE 

Ah, poor Mistress. 

GERVASE, recovering his assurance 

We shall save them, 
He speaks once more to-day. I go. A kiss. 

They kiss and he re-enters the school. 

JEHANNE, jrom the gateway 
Till the hour ends let's go outside and sell. 

To Luce. 
I'll not forget our night my Luce. Farewell. 

Exit JeltannCy Ysbeau, and the two students with them. A s 
they go out the Ballad Monger re-enters jrom ^the street. 

BALLAD MONGER, to LucCy eyeing the departing girls 
Fine fruits, fine flowers. 

LUCE 

Then take a care. 

BALLAD MONGER 

And why? 
I have my arts, I too can sing and sigh 

As well as 

He leers at her meaningly. 

LUCE 
Who? 



12 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

BALLAD MONGER, insolently 
The Master. 

LUCE, with assumed carelessness 

Piteous fool, 
Have you a meaning? 

BALLAD MONGER 

Yes, there is a school. 
Pointing to the school doorway. 
The school must have its master. 

He turns away sniggering and picking at his lute. 

LUCE 

Well? 

BALLAD MONGER, returning to her 

You follow? 
Singing. 
The highest tower will nest its homing swallow. 

Suddenly speaking again. 
You have a mistress. 

LUCE 

Ah! 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 13 

BALLAD MONGER 

She has a heart. 
And you? O ho! the nut is cracked — you start! 
Now buy a song, in these the kernel is; 
Here — 

Selecting parchments from his pack and reading, 

A to H — or these! 

LUCE, staring at the parchments 
No more — 

BALLAD MONGER 

Or this! 

One thrush sang all of these, and to one rose; 
You know them both; here's one, mark how it flows; 

Reading. 
A Shadow to its Moon 

Putting it hack in his package. 

In words that wing it. 
Shadow's a man, the moon's a maid — I'll sing it. 

Luce retreats, putting her -fingers to her ears. 

No? Then I'll speak, now am I wise or dull? 
'Tis your own moon whether at dark or full. 

Luce starts wildly toward the door of Fulbert^s house, but he 
follows her to the steps and calls after her. 



14 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

'Twas made by Master Abelard to your lady, 
I found them by the wall — the music's mine, 
But I have left their names, full credit's given. 

Shouting. 
The town's afire — it sells — folks have their proof. 

Exit Luce. While he has been speaking, Malart has ap- 
peared in the street gateway and he has crept furtively 
and fiercely behind the singer, whom he now springs upon 
and throttles savagely. 

BALLAD MONGER 

What — God's my throat — whose hand — ah — you 

As the minstrel struggles in the monk's powerful grasp, 
Fulbert appears in the doorway of his house and speaks 
from the threshold. 

FULBERT 

Malart! 
The monk releases his hold on the man. 

BALLAD MONGER, reeling and foaming with rage 

Ah — and so you — white slippery — faugh — I faint — 
Drab sweat of the church — you've greased the walls 

too long. 
You'll be well dried for this if I can reach — — 

Dragging out a dagger. 
Here's iron shall drain you well if 



ACT I] ABELARD AND HELOISE 15 

FULBERT 

Out! 

The Ballad Monger totters out into the street, cursing be- 
neath his breathy but stricken with fear of Fulbert. 

Zealot, 
You seem consumed with a fever of Paradise 
For other souls. 

MALART, desperately excited 
Fulbert, your niece 

FULBERT 

God's life! 
How dare you name her! 

MALART, recovering some calmness and looking at him 
Blind — beyond reason — blind. 

FULBERT 

Can there be reason in a useless death 

Or meaning in such an eye all crimson fused ? 

MALART 

Yes, I have meanings; O I burst with meanings. 

FULBERT 

What then — give light or live to know what dark is. 
Pour forth. 

MALART 

You heard no singing? 



i6 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

FULBERT 

Where? 

MALART 

Where? 
All, all about us, outside in the sun. 

FULBERT 

Speak out. 

MALART 

I cannot, for you have no ears. 

FULBERT 

Then shall you have no eyes, for in this hour 
Deep in the altar crypt beneath the pulpit 

MALART 

What! Do you dream that I, Malart, could fear? 
I, who have racked sides and bosom torn. 
From whose wide woe blood comes continually 
That God may take His ease and be at peace. 
I who would go down glad and glorying 
To whistling hell and make its hurricane 
One soul the hotter at Christ's most faint request. 
You threat me with a fear! 

FULBERT 

You rave. 

MALART 

No, no. 
But never by shudders or dread could I be moved. 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 17 

FULBERT, craftily 
Then by your duly. 

MALART 

By my duty, hear me: 
There was a singing here some moments past. 
'Twas sung to no one, and the air dissolved it. 
Not so last night. 

FULBERT 

Talk not of air. 

MALART 

Last night 
The same song grew, and maddened in the dark 
One sang it and another one embraced it — 
And him — O him! 

FULBERT 

Who? 

MALART 

Our poor Abelard. 

FULBERT 

Well, name the other. 

MALART 

Thy dead brother's daughter. 



i8 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

FULBERT 

Ha — Venom — hast spit? My Heloise! 

MALART 

I knew 
There would be to my words no wakening. 

FULBERT 

Can you so stand and breathe and breathe and 

speak this, 
And live? 

MALART 

Yea, and so speak through all my days 
And say no word but truth. 

FULBERT 

Who saw? Who heard? 

MALART 

I and all Paris save only you alone. 

FULBERT, clutching at him 
More — lest I tear your maddening tongue from you. 

. MALART, with malicious deliberation 
It happened thus and so 

FULBERT 

Pause once and I 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 19 

MALART 

Was it not night, were not they two alone? 

FULBERT 



Where? 




MALART 




On the stones that bear 


us even now. 


FULBERT 




Here! 




MALART 




Even beneath this wall. 




FULBERT 




When? 


MALART 






Night by night, 


FULBERT 





And you? 

MALART 

— Watch from the grating of my cell 
Until each glides beside the scorned Church, 
And in the dark two mouths find one another. 
Then do they two pass outward to the town. 
To come no more till dawn. 

FULBERT 

Can so much fire 
Come from so cold a thing as you to gnaw me? 



20 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

MALART 

Will you have proof? 

FULBERT, picking at his throat 

Breath! Breath! Let me awake! 

MALART 

To-night they come. 

FULBERT 

The hour? 

MALART 

I cannot tell. 
Deep at my prayers I in the shadow will lurk 
Until their souls, like swift unhallowed wings, 
Shall bear them flaming to the garden here. 

Then I shall rouse you 

A bell sounds in the school, 

MALART 

Ah, the bell — keep silence. 

The murmur of the forthcoming students is heard inside the 
school and grows louder. 

He will come forth — silence and watchful eyes. 

Luce appears in doorivay of Fulbert^s house. 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 21 

FULBERT, to Luce 

Bring here your mistress. 

Exit Luce into house. 

She — my hope most hidden 
To pour down richness on me from a throne — 
A penniless schoolman — and in guilt besmudged — 
O she who was a white thing snowed upon — 
The Treasury of France was my one price! 
Now with a mouth fed scarlet-hot with guilt, 
Who'll pay a starveling red to buy her up? 

MALART, insidiously 
He— 

FULBERT 

Hel and goes very white and smoothly — he! 

O Dreams, my Dreams that would have brought me 

crowns 
Come back and doom him. Whips of Fire, what 

griefs 
Will stab him dreadfullest ? What thing will tear him 
Slowest, and what will feed his agony? 
Him — and goes very softly — him — O God 

MALART 

Hold — he will now come forth, and she too comes. 
Observe them here together in the sun. 
Watch then the forced motion of their eyes 
That will beyond their wills unclasp their secret. 



22 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

He draws Fulhert up stage to a corner of the court. They 
talk apart. A murmur jrom the town outside as of ?nany 
people approaching is heard faintly. Enter several students 
from the street. Enter to them two students from the 
school. 

A STUDENT 

You heard? 

SECOND STUDENT 

We read. 

THIRD STUDENT, one of the party from the street 

The city is a bell 
Sounding the sorrow of it. 

FOURTH STUDENT, from the school 

O my master 
Must we be helpless while you suffer thus? 

SECOND STUDENT 

The thing has seethed too long without a proof; 
The city hastens here to look upon them. 

FIRST STUDENT 

What will the end be? 

THIRD STUDENT 

If the school goes down, 
The world will be extinguished in its fall. 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 23 

While they have been talking the murmur from the town 
has increased and now a great number of towns-people, 
men and women enter from the street talking excitedly 
among themselves. They arrange themselves en masse 
in the gateway and against Fulbert^s house, looking ex- 
pectantly at the school door. The students begin to enter 
from the school. Jehanne and Ysbeau enter from the 
street. 

VOICES AMONG THE TOWNS-PEOPLE 

He fears to come. 

Not he. Have patience. 

Back! 
A BURGHER, to one next him 

If you stand here, your eyes shall well behold him. 

SECOND BURGHER 

How shall I know him? 

FIRST BURGHER 

Easily by his face, 
Resembling much St. Raphael, the angel. 
Save for the darker hair. 

A WOMAN 

May Mary shield her! 

THIRD BURGHER 

This is a sad thing that he leads the youth. 
And such a free Ufe too. 



24 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

FOURTH BURGHER 

I never knew. 

THIRD BURGHER 

Friend, are you deaf? It has been mouthed about 
These many months. 

FOURTH BURGHER 

I never heard before. 

THIRD BURGHER. 

Have you a wife? 

FOURTH BURGHER 

No. 

THIRD BURGHER 

Therein Hes your deafness. 
There's not a dame in Paris but could tell you. 

FOURTH BURGHER, looking obout 

They seem to be all here. 

SECOND BURGHER 

This is the first 
That they've had proof of it. The ballads tell. 

FIRST BURGHER 

They come to see now with more intimate eyes^ 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 25 

FOURTH BURGHER 

'Tis a most trying hour for bachelors. 

The students have been entering from the school singly. 
Now a large group enter looking back deferentially. Last 
of all Abelard appears in doorway talking to Gervase. 

VOICES FROM STUDENTS 

Master! Hail Mighty Greek! 

O Herald of Reason! 
Plato of Paris! 

Socrates of Gaul! 

Abelard stands dreamily looking about him as though he has 
heard nothing. The cries cease. The crowd is tense 
with curiosity and the excitement of expectancy. They 
cast curious but fearful looks on Fulbertj who stands aside 
from them. 

ABELARD 

Late afternoon. 

A WOMAN 

He muses. 

ABELARD 

— Afternoon ! 
O here dwelt truth glowing while we within 
All shivering piled up stony word on word, 
Prisoners of yesterday. He pauses. 

VOICES AMONG STUDENTS 

Discourse ! Discourse I 



26 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

ABELARD 

Of what? 

GERVASE 

Of anything in earth or heaven, 
So your gemmed utterance will pour forth magic. 

FOURTH BURGHER 

Ha, Magic! 

THIRD BURGHER 

Yea. 

FOURTH BURGHER 

Will he not bum for it? 

A WOMAN 

He burns already with a deeper flame. 

ABELARD 

Yield to this air, it is your necromancer. 

JEHANNE, approaching him timidly and offering him a 
lily from her basket. 
Master, this flower 

ABELARD 

Jehanne, 
How white a gift for me. 

A STUDENT 

Master, speak on. 
Yield us the wisdom of old days. 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 27 

ABELARD 

Old days! 
Summer is here and the world is full of sun, 
And here's a flower. 

FOURTH BURGHER 

Strange words for schoolmen's ears! 

THIRD BURGHER 

'Tis but of late that he has spoken so 
Since 

SECOND BURGHER 

Yes and wisely said that it was ''since" — 

GERVASE, in a low voice to Abelard 
Have care, confuse them with a mist of words, 
Mask all your meanings in imaginings, 
And all this danger will be yawned away. 

ABELARD 

Sheathe for the day your tablets and your pens. 
Wisdom lies open here through other doors. 

A STUDENT, to him 
What doors are those? 

ABELARD 

Are you a lover? 



STUDENT, in some confusion 



Yes. 



28 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 



ABELARD 



Then look on learning with a lover's eyes, 
Then will gold Helen come down the wind to you 
And in the sanguine tumult of a rose 
Be throned forever. 



To deeper loving i 



STUDENT 

Would it win my love 



ABELARD 

It would light you both 
To wiser vision. Plato out of the air 
Will brighten. And royal doom-red Babylon 
•Rise in the twilight out of a dove's throat. 
In a heaved sea-wave you shall see blue Tyre 
Built and destroyed again 

THE STUDENT 

I'll watch for it— 

SECOND STUDENT 

Hush, for he speaks again! 

ABELARD 

— and in the night 
You shall look up with wonder on the sky 
Seeing it all alive, and upon the stars 
The sigh-warm kisses of lovers long asleep. 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 29 

And you shall question the moon what secret thing 
Moves in the phantom marble of her smile, 
And she shall answer you. 

FOURTH BURGHER 

What words are these? 

Heloise appears in the doorway of her uncle^s house and 
pauses behind the people^ looking at them. 

THIRD BURGHER 

Say rather what thing pales his face. 

A STUDENT 

Ho, look! 
Our Lady of Wonder is come down to us ! 

Heloise comes quickly and impulsively toward her uncle, 
hut as she nears him she is stopped by the suppressed jury 
of his countenance. Abelard does not look at her but sees all. 



GERVASE 



Master, we wait. 



A STUDENT 

Behold now how his eyes are wrapped away, 
And that tall spirit that so quickened us 
Is fallen on dream. 

A WOMAN, to him 

The smouldering of his face — 
Watch that — look close— then turn and look at her! 



30 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

HELOISE, to her uncle 
You sent for me? 

FULBERT 

To take the air, the wind 
Has changed. 

HELOISE 

Yes, so it has, and is more heavy. 
I interrupt a lecture. 

FULBERT 

No, we waited. 

HELOISE, looking about 
I see new faces at the school to-day; 
A full attendance. Let us make them gifts. 
I'll purchase fruits and flowers. Jehanne ! Ysbeau ! 

JEHANNE AND YSBEAU, approaching her 
Lady? 

HELOISE 

Bring your baskets, I take all. 

JEHANNE 

Ah, Lady 

HELOISE 

Colors and sweetness — all I take them. 
Bring all. 

YSBEAU 

'Tis pity. 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 31 

JEHANNE 

Vanished ! 
They hold up their baskets empty. 

HELOISE 

Empty! 

YSBEAU 

Mine 
Fed many mouths. 

JEHANNE 

Many hands needed mine. 

Heloise turns from them. All watch her and Abelard in 
silence. 

A STUDENT 

Is she not infinite? 

SECOND STUDENT 

Ay. 

FIRST STUDENT 

, And fair? 

SECOND STUDENT 

Most sweetly. 

THIRD STUDENT 

The master's lips are mute, let her address us. 

SEVERAL STUDENTS 

Ay, ay, beseech her! 



32 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

FIRST STUDENT 

Gervase, do you ask her; 
Plead for some words, you honey- tongue. 

GERVASE, bursting with anxiety 

With a will. 

He approaches Heloise and kneels before her with his gay- 
est manner. 

Lady of Lore, Lady of Secret Light, 
GaUic Minerva, Pallas reborn of Love, 
Bright Oracle, discourse! 

HELOISE 

O boundless folly 
Even to ask it! I am one of you. 

GERVASE 

Not so, the moon's between and the blue vast. 

He contrives to whisper to her aside. 

They watch. Do not disclose yourself but blind 

them. 
Feed them with dreams, stay them with poetry. 
Grow thoughts and hide your heart beneath them. 

FULBERT 

Speak ! 
HELOISE, slowly turning 
Of what? 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 33 

A VOICE 

Life! Life! 

A STUDENT 

Nay, of philosophy. 

GERVASE 

Nay, of that burning essence called the soul. 

HELOISE 

But in what way? 

GERVASE 

It is divisible; 
The parts thereof being the fixed emotions, 
We pray you speak of them. 

And how 

GERVASE 

They are 
Pity and Hate and Hope, Despair and Fear. 

HELOISE 

I might speak then of Pity. 

GERVASE 

By all means. 

HELOISE 

I would it were a flower that I might gather. 

Her voice breaks. She turns to her uncle. 
I pray you let me go. 



34 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

FULBERl 

Remain, instruct us. 

HELOISE 

Pity's no thing to speak of, but to show. 

FULBERT 

To whom? 

HELOISE 

Sorrow should teach it. 

FULBERT 

So? What sorrow? 

HELOISE 

That which all mortal things have felt ; I dream 
That even from the insensible things of the world 
Pity flows always, out of all the seas. 
And surely the moon is a good giver of it, 
And certain stars and winds. This will suffice. 

FULBERT 

We hope for more. 

GERVASE 

Pray speak of hope. 

She stands silent, 

FULBERT 

We wait. 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 35 

HELOISE 

You ask me as a catechist or judge, 
Not as one seeking wisdom. 

FULBERT 

I so thirst 
After more knowledge that if you are dumb 
I'll find it elsewhere. 

HELOISE, desperately 

Let me speak instead. 
Then we shall all disperse. The day is ended. 
Why should we wait? What would you have me 
say? 

GERVASE in a low voice to her 
More poetry, — give them no chance to grasp you. 

FULBERT 

Never leave now. Despair and Hate and Fear 
Have not been touched on. 

HELOISE 

Fear is but a wind. 
Blows out of nowhere. 

FULBERT 

Have you never felt it? 

HELOISE 

Do not a myriad ghosts within us dwell, 
Ancestral vapors unto whom the soul 



36 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

Bows ever like a reed? What living thing 
That lifts its head up in the white day air 
Shudders not at the dark that does upbear it 
And beckons it again? Not in our minds, 
But in our minds' foundations Fear must lurk. 

FULBERT 

Despair comes next. 

A STUDENT 

What, then, shall be its image? 

Heloise, turning slowly to her uncle 
I never knew its face, nor ever shall know 

FULBERT 

Still there is Hate 

HELOISE 

Where? 

FULBERT 

Yet to be sounded. 

HELOISE 

Ah, then I'll speak of it; Hate is a pool 

All of whose streams run backward. He who looks 

May, deep within, see mirrored from its banks 

A downward tower built to find a heaven; 

And all the stars in venom are made strange. 

This then completes the score. 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 37 

A VOICE 

A cheer. 

HELOISE, attempting to go 

Farewell. 

The students applaud wildly, hut as she turns to go Malart 
approaches and stands in her way. 

MALART 

Never end so until the end is reached. 

HELOISE 

But I have finished. 

MALART 

Still we listen and stay 
To know of the one faculty of the soul 
Exceeding all the rest, eclipsing, glowing, 
In which the whole is compassed and made warm. 

HELOISE 

You veil your words. 

MALART 

Yet speak of it. 

HELOISE 

And how? 
What is it? 

MALART 

Must I then declare it to you ? 



38 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

HELOISE 

I grope for meaning in you. 

MALART 

Then I must. 
My meaning is an infinite faculty, 
A mystery, a cloud, a fire, a wound 
That I, walking among mankind, observe 
It has been named 

The voice of the Ballad Monger^ singing outside in the 
street one of Ahelard's songs. 

MALART 

But hark, it names itself. 

BALLAD MONGER, appearing in the gateway 
Songs new and old by Master Abelard, 
The famous poet to his famous lady. 

Abelard and Heloise stand on opposite sides of the court, 
white and rigid. All are held spellbound till the song 
ends, then instantly all is confusion. The crowd begins 
to leave the court, talking among themselves. 

HELOISE, with great difficulty 
Mine is a woman's head and will not bear 
A too great subtlety. I weary. 

With a pretense of calmness she enters her uncle^s house. 
As the towns -people depart, a bell sounds and the students 



ACT I] ABELARD AND HELOISE 39 

separate from them and enter the school^ followed by 
Abelard, Finally all have departed save Fulberty M atari y 
and a porter who closes and locks the great iron gate of 
the wall and then enters the school. Fulbert has had his 
eyes fixed upon his door since Heloise entered it. He 
now starts fiercely toward it. 

MALART, stopping him 

Wait! 

Fulbert slowly turns and goes out with a gesture of despera- 
tion. Malart is left alone. The stage is gradually 
darkened until all light is extinguished. It is kept dark 
for a minute to denote the passing of several hours. 
Then it is slowly suffused with moonlight. The watch is 
heard in the street intoning the hour; his lantern, hung 
at the top of a pike, is seen above the wall passing slowly. 
A pause. Voices singing to the lute are heard approach- 
ing in the street. As they get nearer they are suddenly 
hushed. A muffled knocking is heard on the outside of 
the gate. Enter a student from the school and advancing 
toward the gate, waits a mornent, upon which the knock- 
ing is again sounded. The student thereupon produces 
the key, unlocks the gate and with a mighty pull and heave 
the ponderous door swings slowly inward, admitting, 
staggering and panting with suppressed laughter and their 
exertions, Ysbeau, and her student lover dragging a ladder 
after them. The first student whistles and Jehanne ap- 
pears at an upper window in Fulberfs house. The 
student places the ladder, Jehanne climbs down and all 
run laughingly out into the street, taking the ladder and 
pulling the gate shut after them without locking it. A 



40 , ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

pause. Enter Heloise jrom her uncle'' s house. She walks 
eagerly around the court hut finds it empty. As she nears 
the doorway oj the school Abelard appears within it. He 
comes swiftly toward her. 

ABELARD 

Sorceress, Priestess, Child 



HELOISE 

You, you- 



ABELARD 

O Fire! 

HELOISE 

O Wind that blows this Fire where he listeth. 

ABELARD 

You are the sea from which that Wind arose. 

HELOISE 

If I the sea, then you the heavens that feed me ; 
Your arms the shores of me, and in that home 
Lo, all my tides are folded to content, 

ABELARD 

By Fire, by Wind, by Sea I swear to hold you 
Safely within that margin while your deeps 
Have wildness to be lulled or peace to fathom. 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 41 



HELOISE 



Beyond! Beyond! O keep me while we are 
A part of this dear world, and when you leave it, 
O be the sun and draw me after you. 



ABELARD 



I am impetuous to be that glory 
That I may blaze upon you, being cloud; 
And see those treasuries still unknown to me, 
Who am but coast and beaches to you now. 



HELOISE 



Ah, you have tamed the farthest wave of me, 
And what poor shells I nurtured you have burnished 
Till they are pearls that I may wear for you. 



ABELARD 



jewel-guarding sea, your stillnesses 
Hold something more than I shall ever find. 

HELOISE 

If any richness in me still withholds 

1 am not mindful of it, and it waits 
Until your need shall summon it to life. 

ABELARD 

Thus you surpass me in sweet images. 



42 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

'HELOISE 

I would not have you find my words so cold 
As any image is, but have you hold them 
My very self, to see and know me yours. 

ABELARD 

And are you? 

HELOISE, causing him to look in her eyes 
See. 

ABELARD 

O find new words to tell me. 

HELOISE 

Teach me. 

ABELARD 

I cannot, I have learned from you. 
You whom I taught with Sibyls did consort, 
With witchery touched my eyes and with your mouth 
Fused with the glad world all my breathing clay. 

HELOISE 

I was the clay and you the quickening flame. 

ABELARD 

Out of that South which was your burning presence 
I was enkindled. 

HELOISE 

Have you not become 
The very South itself in tenderness? 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 43 

ABELARD 

You wear within your eyes the fervid West; 
From dawn the East has clothed you on with white- 
ness, 
The North with strength. 

HELOISE 

Ah no, I would not be 
Thus gloriously apparelled with the sky 
Lest I be held from walking on this world 
That you make heaven of, my Abelard. 

ABELARD 

I have cast off that world for great Love's sake 
And have relinquished all my mighty dreams. 

HELOISE 

The dreams? 

ABELARD 

All thought, all hope of earthly prizes. 
The hollow, moonless, bleak frontier of reason 
Shall never know me more as habitant, 
Lifting cold disputations to my lips, 
Thirsting for unfound wine. O most high Love! 
Unconquerable Sweet! Imperial Wind! 
How you do blow the thistledown ambition 
Into the white, desire-receiving air! 



44 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

HELOISE, after a pause in which she looks long at him as 
though to search his inmost heart 

You cannot put ambition by, O Love, 
Nor is there need of it, but it shall be 
A thing V\\ share with you. 

She pauses again and then proceeds. 
And you I'll share 



With all the world. 



ABELARD 

I do not need that world. 



HELOISE 

You are the world's. 

ABELARD 

I sought a greater glory 
Than it can give, and I have found it here 
Low in your eyes, and now I long to see 
Only the vivid love upon your brow 
Poised there forever in soft flame to live. 

HELOISE 

Earth is your dweUing and your meat and drink; 
Let not your need but, the world's need of you. 
Be your one star. 

ABELARD 

That star is vanished now. 
The power, the applause, the papal sovereignty 
Have to dull embers fallen before your face. 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 45 

HELOISE, slowly 

The papal sovereignty, my Abelard! 

She looks fearfully at him. 
That is a prize for priests. 

ABELARD, moodily 

I had thought upon it. 

HELOISE 

But you are all a man and not a priest. 

ABELARD 

I had given it thought, and yet — I put it by. 

HELOISE, desperately 

O put it by until the end of time ; 

You are not made for cloisters, and within them 

How could I share with you? 

ABELARD 

I'll think no more 
Upon it. There are other roads to fame. 

HELOISE 

And you shall take them; but on this dear night 
Let us lock out the world and its poor laurels. 
Being together with what is ours alone. 



46 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

ABELARD, returning jrom his abstraction 
The world is dimmed before your dreaming face, 
Whereon a flame rests by whose radiance 
I see, I hear, I feel with wakened senses 
The voice under the voices of the wind, 
The whiteness and hush of wings within the dawn, 
The very sun at noon as a god imparadised, 
And the red West at the day's end^ — a rose. 

HELOISE 

All these Love brings indeed, but if he came 
A piteous beggar he would be as welcome 
Since you have brought him. 

ABELARD 

Would I might bring more. 

HELOISE 

What more than this? 

ABELARD 

An echoing, endless flame 
To spread as clouds beneath your going forth. 

HELOISE, after a pause 
You have laid upon me even now a thing 
Almost too heavy for my womanhood — 
If I be worthy — worthy in some measure — 
It is enough — within so small a space. 

She turns away. 



ACT I] ABELARD AND HELOISE 47 

ABELARD 

How can these walls contain so wild a thing? 

HELOISE, returning 

Oh, you have opened all the doors of air. 

And all the thousand paths the moon comes down 

Have wide-flung gates that lead unto the sky 

ABELARD 

As though to call us to some heaven there. 

HELOISE 

Ah no, our heaven is here; those tender fires 

Blaze with sweet envy on us, and are fed 

By what we show them more than what they are. 

ABELARD 

How the night hours and all the star-sweet heaven 
Pour down your infinite presence with a cry! 
How now my eyes do see ! How they were bhnded ! 
The noon-like blaze of glories that allured me, 
Fade in the least wind from before those deeps. 

HELOISE 

See how the stars with myriad blossoms breathe 
Out of the wreathing arch that seems to bend 
More tenderly wherever you appear. 



48 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

ABELARD 

Would I might gather those white blooms for you 
From out the fields and meadows of the night. 

HELOISE 

It seems as we had sown them long ago — 

ABELARD, dreamily 
And we shall reap them in a time to come. 

HELOISE, starting with a shudder 
J Let us not think of any hour but this. 

She turns anxiously toward her uncle's house, then toward 
the school J and returns to Ahelard. 

Go now within and see if all is well. 

ABELARD 

I left all sleeping. 

HELOISE 

Yet I beg you go. 
I, too, will now patrol my uncle's halls, 
Lest any eyes lurk there that so beset us; 
For I am weighted with an unnamed fear. 
All knew on yesterday save he alone, 
And he suspected. 

ABELARD 

My lost songs being found 
Was almost proof. 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 49 

HELOISE 

He may not wait for more* 
Go now — — 

She embraces him, 

ABELARD 

And come again? 

HELOISE 

Unfailingly. 

ABELARD 

Love me through that eternity that will be 
While we are separate. 

HELOISE 

You shall never leave me, 
For here I bear you though our ways be wide. 

She touches her breast. Abelard leaves her and goes into 
the school. Heloise goes toward the door oj her uncle's 
house. She is about to enter when she is suddenly con- 
fronted with Malart, who stands in the doorway. She 
stops. He comes slowly down to her. 

MALART 

You keep late hours. 

HELOISE 

I keep my own. 



50 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

MALART 

You dream. 
To prayers belong your hours, get you back to them, 
Lament, plead, agonize and beg for mercy. 

HELOISE 

Of whom? 

MALART 

Of all the pallid host of intercessors. 

HELOISE 

Among whom you are one? 

MALART 

I seek to save. 

HELOISE 

I have come out to be alone in the wind. 

MALART 

You have come out hke Lihth for a lure. 

So at last you start! So at last you are awakened! 

Oh, rouse, return, repent in time for grace! 

HELOISE 

Is it for this that you have followed me? 

MALART 

I follow God's voice only. 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 51 

HELOISE 

If He called you 
His voice is a false thing. 

MALART 

O profanation! 

HELOISE 

Will you go back and leave me? 

MALART 

Not until 
I have my charge deUvered and made plain, 
Thou scarlet thing. O ruthless Babylonian, 
Wilt thou with thy mad lips and chaining arms 
Drag down to utter torment God's appointed? 
Wilt thou persist in being woman only 
And therefore be hell's minion? On thy knees, 
Oh, purge thee of thyself! Cry! Tear thy flesh! 
Creep to a desert and there abide alone 
While thy endooming beauty is upon thee! 

HELOISE 

Malart, I would that I might talk with you. 

MALART 

Then speak. 

HELOISE 



It is impossible. 



52 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

MALART 

And why? 

HELOISE 

Speaker and auditor need a mutual tongue. 

MALART 

You deem me not book-learned? You deem me 

deaf? 
I understand enough to see most clearly 
The two diverse wide roads to heaven and hell 
And they that walk thereon. 

HELOISE 

I pray have done. 

MALART 

You will not go? 

HELOISE 

When I have breathed more freely. 

MALART 

Beware, beat no more words upon me. Go — 
I am the Church's wolf to guard her altar, 
And I may bare my teeth. 

HELOISE 

So! In what way? 

He does not answer. 
You are friend to Abelard ? 



ACTi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 53 

MALART 

I am friend to God, 
And He shall have His own. 

HELOISE 

He shall indeed; 
But you, His self-appointed deputy. 
Are blind unto the way that He has chosen. 

MALART 

There is but one way and a narrow one. 

HELOISE 

It lies ? 

MALART 

Through quiet cells of full renouncement. 

HELOISE 

And leads? 

MALART 

To heaven. 

HELOISE 

Even you have shed 
One ray of truth. He will need all of heaven; 
But there your truth ends. First he needs this earth. 
And all it holds will not suffice for him. 

MALART 

And you, the giver? 



54 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

HELOISE 

I am part of earth. 

MALART 

For once, recall your mind. Within the house 
Sleep Fulbert and Suspicion, bedfellows— 
If I now call them 

HELOISE 

And what then? 

MALART 

Thou fool! 

Consider thy position under the stars. 

Soon will the clock beat one and you are here — 

Come hither upon a purpose bent, which Fulbert, 

To the sum of his suspicion adding it, 

Must know to be a tr^t. 

HELOISE 

Will he think harm 
That Night and I are alone here in the court? 

MALART 

The court upon which opens Abelard's door. 

HELOISE 

Doors have an exit where an entrance is! 

MALART, aside 
Ha! Is it so? 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 55 

HELOISE 

This is enough. No more. 
Go back. Sleep. Pray. Do anything — but leave 
me. 

MALART 

And I do what I do with your consent? 

HELOISE 

Only to have you leave me. 

MALART 

You have spoken. 

HELOISE, suddenly seized with a suspicion 

Ha! You would dare to whisper to my uncle? 
Then think on hell, for he would send you there. 
Remember but his face and when you threaten 
Choose first an arrow that will not rebound. 

MALART, retreating 

Enough. Farewell. I look upon you once 
And see you thus. And then — no more again 
Shall such a face look on the world or me. 

Exit into Fulbert's house. Heloise looks at his retreating 
figure until he has gone. She then goes swiftly toward 
the school steps and stands upon them^ looking in. After 
a moment Abelard appears and comes down to her. 



56 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

ABELARD 

All's well. They are asleep. 
They both come down the steps to the middle oj the court. 



A dreadful visitor. 



HELOISE 

But I have had 

ABELARD 

Who? 



HELOISE 

Malart. 

ABELARD 

Ah, he'll guard us. 

HELOISE 

Not with clear eyes or untouched judgment ever. 

She pauses. 
I am too much disquieted to stay. 
We must return, that such eyes may no longer 
Seek to destroy us by such vigilance. 

ABELARD 

This very ground opposes coming day. 
The legions of the dew array their spears 
To fight until the upward-marching sun 
Dispels their watery camp 



ACT I] ABELARD AND HELOISE 57 

HELOISE, starting wildly 

What's that? A sound! 
A slight noise is heard in Fulbert^s house. 

ABELARD, still dreamily 
All earth and heaven should sound our gladness out. 

A louder noise is heard. 
HELOISE 

That is not heaven nor earth, but hell awakened 
Quick! To your door! Good-night! 

She runs to Abelard, they embrace hurriedly. 
ABELARD 

Ah, World! 

HELOISE 

Quick! 

Abelard runs to the school door^ Heloise to her own. The 
doors, which they had left open upon entering are now 
shut. They try to enter but cannot. 

ABELARD 

Locked I 

HELOISE, shaking frantically at her own door to no avail 
The doors are sealed! 

She leaves it and runs along the walls reaching blindly with 
her hands as though to tear an opening. 



58 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i 

Through the stones — creep — creep. 
Flatten against them there in the deep shadow — 
They shall not find you — you will die — are dead — 
Whispers have reached him — murder was in his face 
While we stood yesterday before the world — 
O God, can you not leap? 

She runs toward the court gate, and in doing so she nears 
Abelardj who has stood still, silently watching her as 
though he dreamed. As she darts past him he catches 
her passionately in his arms. 

ABELARD 

Here will we bide, 
There is no other way. 

HELOISE, struggling to he released 

The gate! The gate! 

ABELARD 

Do we not know that ever at night 'tis locked ? 

HELOISE, freeing herself from his embrace and running to 
the gate, she drags at it with all her strength. 

It moves! 

The gate seems to yield an inch. The sounds in Fulbert^s 
house increase. Fulbert^s voice is heard shouting for 
lights. The key is heard fumbling in the door of his 
house. Bolts are withdrawn. Abelard stands watching 
Heloise, seemingly stupefied. Then he darts forward 



ACT i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 59 

and they throw their united strength against the gate. It 
opens a little space and they hurry through into the street^ 
just before Malart rushes in from Fulbert^s house closely 
followed by Fulbert. 

MALART 

Behold! 
They both look about and find the court empty. 

FULBERT 

Lies! Lies! O damned 



He turns upon Malart and seizes hiin by the throat, dragging 
at his knife. In their struggle, however, they have 
neared the gate and suddenly the priest, with a triumphant, 
choking shout, draws Fulbert nearer and points to the 
gate, on the lock of which there hangs a fallen white 
drapery of Heloise. Malart plucks it off, points mean- 
ingly to the open doorway and gives the drapery to Fulbert. 

FULBERT, staring at it 

Hers! 



Curtain. 



ACT II 

A fortnight later. A large and sombre room in Fulhert^s 
villa at Corheil. On either side of the room is a door^ 
and at the hack is a large double doorway hung with 
an arras of tapestry. 

Enter Luce from one side. She seats herself and begins 
reading a hook which she has brought. Enter to her 
soon after from a door on the opposite side, Heloise. 
She pauses after taking a few steps and seems to listen 
nervously. 

HELOISE 

What sound was that? 

LUCE 

Where? 

HELOISE 

Here. 

LUCE 

Why, I heard nothing. 

HELOISE, as though to herself 

What can it be? 

She walks about the room, staring around her abstractedly. 
Luce follows her with her eyes. 
60 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 6i 

LUCE 

The house is very still. 

HELOISE 

No, something has been clamorous all about, 
All these two weeks. 

LUCE 

It is the din of Paris 
Still beating in your ears. 

HELOISE 

Not that. 

LUCE 

What then? 

HELOISE 

Oh, I hear silence till the very air 
Shrieks out my sick anxiety. 

LUCE 

Then why 
Did you put leagues between him and your longing? 

HELOISE 

A longer staying was the very tune 
The tongues would play on. 



LUCE, sighing 

It is weary waiting. 



Time's in a swoon. 



62 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

HELOISE, still moving restlessly about 
The rooms are feverous. 
She suddenly stops , still listening intently. 
What's that? 

LUCE, also listening 
A door. 

HELOISE, again beginning her restless walk about the room 
The very doors are restless, 
The ceilings all impend v^ith dreadful fears. 
The floor's a sea. The walls alone are quiet. 

LUCE, rising and going to her lovingly 
This climbing, baffled longing leads to sickness. 

HELOISE, looking at her 
Are my eyes altered from my eyes that night? 

LUCE 

No. 

HELOISE 

Then I am not ill. 

Suddenly starting. 

There, some one's here. 
Ah. 

Her face lightens. 

LUCE, going to an open window at the back and leaning far 

out 

No, your uncle's guests from Paris come. 



ACTii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 63 

HELOISE 

Who else? 

LUCE, half turning jrom where she still stands by the window 
None, now they enter there below. 

HELOISE, with a gesture of weariness 

So I must be reluctant hostess then 
And don my mask of eager welcoming. 

LUCE, running to her 
No, no. Stay; go within — I'll welcome them. 

She tries to lead Heloise jrom the room, 

HELOISE, putting her off 
It is the only fitness. I have been 
His household's mistress and they know no other. 

LUCE 

I beg of you. 

HELOISE, looking at her 
Why? 

LUCE, evading her gaze 

Oh, never ask. 
Sounds are heard as of people approaching the room. 

HELOISE 

They come! 



64 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

Enter guests. They are gorgeously apparelled^ ladies and 
gentlemen with their servants. They enter slowly with 
great ceremony , and upon seeing Heloise they halt and 
stand silenty regarding her with haughty disdain. The 
foremost of them is an imposing-looking woman who car- 
ries a long staff. 

Friends of this house, greeting most deep to all. 
Welcome to comfort and my uncle's bounty. 

The guests draw themselves slightly apart from her. 

THE FOREMOST WOMAN, looking snecringly at Heloise 

Our host, your uncle, follows in an hour. 
He bids us be apportioned to our chambers. 
On his arrival he will welcome us. 

HELOISE, stonily 
The steward will assign you to your halls. 

The guests slowly and insolently pass through and exeunt 
by the opposite doorway. 

LUCE, stamping with rage as they go 
Cats, and poor drooping hounds ! 

As they slowly go out the last guest turns and comes forward^ 
showing himself to he Malart. 

MALART, raising his lean arms 

Peace to this house. 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 65 

HELOISE, rushing toward him 
Oh, he tamed these fingers from such usage 
Or you'd see something savager in me 
Than you've yet looked on, and 'twould be the last 
Sight in those rolling eyes! 

MALART, calmly 

What cause for anger? 

HELOISE 

Think what you've done to his most snowy fame 
That like a tower rose above the world, 
And never ask again. 

MALART, imperturhahly 

Yet I do ask it. 

HELOISE 

You led the embattled filthy tongues of Paris 
To smear their sooty mahce over it. 

MALART 

A tower never fell by such assault 
That was not opened to attack by one 
Within the walls. 

HELOISE, madly 

Then Devil, name the traitor. 

MALART, with sudden fierceness 
You! 



66 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

HELOISE, aghast 
I? 

MALART 

Who else? You two alone were tenants, 
And you had stolen in where he alone 
CHmbed on a narrow stair to his own place. 
The tower that he raised will not contain 
Two; it is too slender. He builds it so; 
Builds for himself alone, the lonelier tower 
Will pierce the higher sky. 

HELOISE, musing sadly 

A narrow stair 

MALART, coming nearer to her 
I once conjured you by his soul's salvation, 
I now conjure you by his own desires; 
Take from between them and his eyes your shadow 
For these are his desires which he evades. 
Looks sidelong at, but never yet was blind to. 
Though in the devious net of your mad wishes 
You halt his feet. 

He stops. Heloise stands stricken with conviction. Ma- 
lart then proceeds with a more careless manner. 

Yet I bring news for you. 

HELOISE 

Then 'tis new sorrow, let me hear its name. 



ACT ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 67 

MALART 

He has left Paris. 

HELOISE 

Gone! Ah, where? 

MALART 

He vanished 
After one day had shone upon your absence. 

HELOISE 

Where? Where? 

MALART, coldly 

I was not made his confidant. 

HELOISE 

But my departure made his path all safe 
By famishing all tongues from further food. 

MALART 

Their former food will last, they've plenteous store. 

HELOISE 

How shall I starve them? 

MALART, turning upon her suddenly 

Starve them! Starve Desire! 
For that's assurance of their further food. 

HELOISE, grasping at a hope 
He needed rest. He's gone to follow it. 
And I'll be glad. 



68 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

MALART, returning to her 

The school is all seditious. 

HELOISE, starting 
The school! 

MALART 

It breaks. His name begins a riot. 
Student kills student for him and against. 

HELOISE, piteously 
What further news? 

MALART 

No more. 

HELOISE, turning away 

It is enough. 
A bell sounds in the house, 

MALART 

God's voice now calls me to my prayers. I go. 

LUCE, approaching him 

With Him upon your side, wearing your colors, 
Who shall prevail against you? 

MALART, solemnly accepting her mockery 

Not this world. 



acth] ABELARD and HELOISE 69 

LUCE 

I would my strength could make this world a better 
By sending you post-haste into a worse. 

Exit Malart, unheeding. 

HELOISE 

And this from me 

LUCE, coming to her 
What? 

HELOISE 

Oh, I am the cause, 
I'm the cursed reason of this dread result. 
The school — his very heart — the very ladder 
Of his ascent, is being overturned, 
And I, the slippery stone from which it falls. 

LUCE 

You! You are his safest battlement and strength. 

HELOISE, sadly 
Not in the world's eyes and by them he climbed. 

LUCE 

They're the uncertain ground he slips upon. 
Not you. 

HELOISE 

Yes I, the world is jealous of me. 
He is the world's. 



70 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 



LUCE 

You are his secret strength. 



HELOISE 

Secret! Yes that's the word. Only in shadow 
I must remain, for when I do emerge, 
The imperious world, his mistress, watching him 
Sees the division of his eyes and flaunts him. 

LUCE, sighing 

Time's the magician that will smooth it all. 

Hal} to herself. 
Though what a snail he is. 

HELOISE, staring at Luce^s hand 

What's that you wear? 
Going closer to her. 

A ring ! O Luce ! And on a telltale finger ! 

LUCE, hiding her hand confusedly 
I could not keep it off. 

HELOISE 

Out with the secret- 
Who? 

LUCE, in a low voice 
Gervase. 

HELOISE 

Wedded? 



ACTii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 71 

LUCE 

On the night we left. 

HELOISE, embracing her 

Luce, Luce, you left him, followed me, and I 

Fed with self pity, mourned, while you without 

Stood waiting — waiting him. 

She turns away. 

Oh, shall I never 
Pluck out this selfish root that winds about me? 

LUCE, going to her 
My Love and I are safe, our battle's won. 
No evil fortune ever envied us, 
So now our weapons are all bright for you. 

HELOISE 

What sacrifice you laid upon my altar! 

LUCE, soothingly 
Only a httle waiting. 

HELOISE 

But your fears? 

LUCE 

For whom? 

HELOISE 

Gervase. 



72 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

LUCE, smiling 

That boy is always safe. 
Trust him. If all the rays of stars were spears 
He'd glitter at them till their aim was bhnded. 

HELOISE 

How shall we thank you both? 

LUCE 

By winning like us. 

She looks meaningly at Heloise, who first looks away sadly 
and then turns and impulsively kisses her. 

HELOISE 

A wife! O sweet, I love you doubly now. 

LUCE 

You'll find a double tenderness in me 

By the same means before this moon fades out, 

Touching her ring and taking Heloise* s hand. 
This girdle shall be mirrored on this hand. 

HELOISE 

The moon might bring it if the earth were gone, 
But while this world is real it denies me, 
For it holds other jewels up to him 
That far outshine this humble, quiet thing. 

Looking at the ring. 



ACT ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 73 

LUCE 

But with the others, he may long to wear 
This also 

HELOISE 

He would never be the wearer; 

She looks at her Jtand. 
Only this selfish hand would be so crowned. 

She draws Luce to her. 
But ah this heart of his flows out to you! 

LUCE 

Love me and wait. Let's go now to our chamber. 

HELOISE, going 

Yes. 

LUCE 

And I'll follow soon. I'll bring the books. 

Exit Heloise. Luce goes to a table and begins gathering 
an armjul of books. As she does so, Gervase stealthily 
and theatrically puts his head in at the doorway at the 
back of the room. 

GERVASE 

Hist! 

LUCE, turning, seeing him and throwing both arms wide 
for him 
Here! 



74 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

Gervase is magnificently clothed in most glittering and fop- 
pish garments. Luce holds him of} and surveys him. 

You thing of pearl, what cloud rained you? 

GERVASE, ecstatically 

Inimitable vision, look again. 

He struts about, 

Vm gold, not that sweet bauble oysters wear 

Unless ^ 

Approaching her quizzically. 

You are that fish, for I'm your gem. 

Suddenly starting with mock horror. 

Are you an oyster? Why, now I look closely, 

I see the likeness. 

He examines her. 

And your lips are shut. 
Then I'm the heron that shall woo you out. 
Here I come wading. 

He affects to wade slowly toward her till he is near, then 
suddenly he clasps her and takes a kiss. 

LUCE 

Madcap, where is he? 

GERVASE 

Ask of the sun. I cannot look upon him; 
He is too high. And yet I think he floats 
Somewhere about a mile above this place. 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 75 

LUCE, joyfully 
He comes? 

GERVASE 

He sinks to us. 

LUCE 

And to what end? 

GERVASE 

To take that sweet star that lies fallen here 
Back in the sky with him. 

LUCE, clasping her hands 

Oh, now all's well! 

GERVASE 

And greater things than these are yet to tell. 

First, look at me! 

He spins about. 

I cost a thousand francs! 

LUCE, smiling 

A sorry bargain 

She stops suddenly J listening. 

Hush, she comes — go back. 

He retreats. 
I'll tell her softly. 

GERVASE, running to her 
A kiss! 



76 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

LUCE, kissing him hastily 

There — hide yourself. 
Exit Gervase by doorway at back. Enter Heloise by side 
door. 

HELOISE 

Sweet, I waited, but the room was lonely. 

LUCE 

Wait here. 

She goes to Heloise. 

A sudden question stirs within me; 

You said awhile ago that you must bide 

Deep in the shadow and be only near him 

In secrecy. 

She waits. 
HELOISE, slowly 

It grows more true each hour. 

LUCE 

Then let me ask, if he should come — this hour, 

Heloise moves. 
Denying need of secrecy or shadow, 
Would you not walk forth with him in the sun? 

HELOISE 

You dream my dreams for me. 

LUCE 

But would you go? 



ACT ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 77 

HELOISE 

First I must know whether he wished the sun 
Merely to smile upon us and be glad, 
Or whether he aspired to possess 
The very sun itself. 

LUCE 

You do not mean 
That you have thoughts of now renouncing him! 

HELOISE, desperately 

Oh, never that; I will not — could not think it! 
What black necessity could bring such death? 

LUCE, wonderingly 
What then? 

HELOISE, slowly 

My fate may force me to deny 
My wifehood's crown and name before the world. 

Approaching Luce, 
Now hate me, scorn me as all women would. 

LUCE 

Oh, marriages by priests are never made! 

But surely being woman, you prefer 

The quietude and bright security 

Within the confines of the Church's blessing. 



78 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

HELOISE 

Oh, I am homesick for that tender land, 
For only in that climate may there flourish 
Those rarer and more delicate, finer flowers 
That Love is gardener of: for all outside 

Is but a wide, assaulted sea. And yet 

She broods. 
Even the sea has colors, and deep down 
Sea flowers are, and some seem even quiet. 

LUCE, looking at her sadly 
The quiet of the drowned. ^ 

HELOISE, putting her hand on Luce*s lips 
Please, please. 

LUCE 

But vows — the ring — would be the bonds to hold 
him. 

HELOISE 

Ah, for the moment of a Uttle year 
It would be Hght beyond the sky of stars; 
And then his path would lead his eyes again 
On to some higher sky, and I should be 
Only the fetter, weary with self-hate 
Because I held him. 

LUCE 

Love should have more trust. 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 79 

HELOISE 

I'll trust him to my love, and trust my love 
To him that neither may be dashed to ruin. 

LUCE 

I think he changes and grows less desirous 
Of that elusive candle of his fame. 

HELOISE 

Oh, it may be — oh, may it not be. Luce? 
May time not work some sorcery for me? 
May not the jealous world remould his vision; 
Turn his ambition's gaze to other heights — 
Not lower, but more tolerant of me? 

She turns away. 
I'll cling to that. I'll watch his eyes for hope 
When next I see him. Oh, I'll always watch. 

She suddenly starts, listening, takes one eager step toward 
the door at hack, then stops. 

LUCE 

Then begin now, for there's a step you know. 

Enter Abelard. 
HELOISE, wildly 
Abelard 1 Oh, your life is not safe here ! 

Gervase appears in doorway at back. He beckons to LucCj 
who goes to him and they disappear. 



8o ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

ABELARD 

Where else can be my life save where you are? 

He withdraws from her embrace and stands hejore her. 
He wears the trappings of a nobleman. 

But I am safe and come to tell you why, 
To tell you and to claim you mine — mine only. 
My father's dead and I am peer of France. 
And before all men you shall soon be hailed 
Countess of Berenger. 

HELOISE 

She has been listening eagerly ^ but as he ends, Iter head 
sinks J a pause ensues , and then she speaks in a low voice. 

And then — what then? 

ABELARD, astounded 

Why, is it not enough? We two shall flee 
Far from this rotten and calumnious world 
And in long quiet rule my southern hills. 

HELOISE 

And then? 

ABELARD 

These are strange thens from a chosen bride! 
What else but find forgetting in each other? 

HELOISE, looking long at him 
Am I a cup of Lethe for your lips? 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE Si 

ABELARD, loudly 

You shall be by the love that lifts it to me. 

HELOISE 

Ah, I am not that dark river itself 

With inexhaustible fountains welling always. 

ABELARD 

But you shall be to me. 

HELOISE 

I pray not so. 
Is there, dear love, no other happiness 
Than to forget? 

ABELARD 

What dear thing could be dearer 
Going to her more tenderly and looking closely into her eyes. 

Than in these purple deeps to sink and drown? 

HELOISE 

What of the school, my Abelard? 

ABELARD, starting 

The school! 

Moving away. 
That broken ladder that I climbed upon 



82 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

HELOISE 

To what? 

ABELARD 

To what? 

Musing. 

Who knows? It might have been 

With a sigh he returns to her. 

That sky is past now over the world's edge 
And you are my new morning. 

HELOISE 

But the school? 

ABELARD, gloomily 

I shall no more return to that ascent. 
Our path's together 

HELOISE 

Even though it leads you 
Downwards ? 

ABELARD, vigorously 

I care not, I have lost ambition. 

HELOISE, going to him 
Oh, look at me and let me hear you say it. 

ABELARD 

Once I have said it, once is all enough. 



ACT ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE S3 

HELOISE 

Would you in that far province be content 
And never wake, and turn and look at me, 
Remembering? 

ABELARD, avoiding her gaze 

I would steep me in your soul 
To deep, to poppied quiet. 

HELOISE, moving away 

Poppy flowers 
Never would lull you to forgetfulness 
Of those relinquished and those radiant blooms 
That once you might have gathered. 

ABELARD, following her impatiently 

These are words. 
Why do we use them? Here behold me flown 
Quickly to spread before you for your treading 
My new- won cloth of gold ; to share with you 
My latest dignity. 

HELOISE 

But if this latest 
Should, by my blind acceptance, be the last? 

ABELARD, astonished 
Would you have more than this? 



84 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

HELOISE 

Ah, sweet, 
The world holds more than this bright prize for you 
That shines so large for being seen so near. 

She suddenly goes to him. 
Oh, does it not? Tell me how bright it seems. 

ABELARD 

I never wanted this false world's applause. 

HELOISE 

Never? 

ABELARD 

I dreamed of it, but now's the waking. 

HELOISE 

But other wakings upon other dawns — 
Must they not come? 

ABELARD, looking at her coldly 

Your ways grow strange to me. 

HELOISE 

O Tenderest, O Best, forgive these ways. 
For I do know this heaven you offer me, 

This deep bewildering path of asphodel 

She pauses. 
And yet all very clear and gently simple — 
All white — all plain. Oh, does it not seem so? 



ACT ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 85 



J 



ABELARD 

No Other path is plain; no other open. 

HELOISE 

Know first, whatever chances, that I thank you 
For this most mighty honor, this great crown 
That you would set upon this yearning brow. 

ABELARD 

Would set and shall set. 

HELOISE 

Is it not enough 
That you have offered it? I shall remember, 
And that white memory shall crown me always. 

ABELARD 

You shall not need your memories, we shall make 
Each hour more real. 

HELOISE 

Will any be more real 
Than the old hours within our shadefast quiet 
Before the world broke in? 

ABELARD 

Ah, now I see! 
You fear the world! 



86 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

HELOISE, sighing a negation 
Ah! 

ABELARD, following his clew 

Then some one 



He ponders, then brightens. 
Your uncle! 
This faintness, this indifference to me 
Are the sick maskings of a mind afraid. 
But now be soothed; I bring his purchase price; 

Calling attention to his dress. 
This pettiness of my new worldly station. 

HELOISE, gazing at him 
Does this new station seem already petty? 

ABELARD, morosely 
It grows more stagnant, small, monotonous 

Each hour 

He suddenly brightens as though casting off his mood. 
But happiness is just beyond! 

HELOISE 

Beyond? 

ABELARD 

You hold it for me, you shall give it 
When we are forged and welded into one. 

Heloise moves dumbly toward the door. 
Where now? 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 87 

HELOISE 

Dear Love, I go to be a while 
Alone. I'll send one with your chamber's key. 

ABELARD, jollowing her toward the door 
What's this? I cannot fathom you; that now 
On my return, all flame, into your arms. 
You damp my ardor, coldly turn away. 

HELOISE, suddenly turning and throwing her arms about 

him 
Oh, do you love me? 

ABELARD 

Yes. 

HELOISE, releasing herself after a pause 
It is enough. 
She goes to door at side, 
I shall return, perhaps with better fire. 

Exit Heloise, 

Abelard stands looking after her gloomily for a moment, a 
servant appears at doorway, back, bearing keys, to conduct 
Abelard to his rooms. Abelard sees him and finally with 
an impatient gesture turns to go with him. As he 
reaches the doorway, back, he is confronted by Malart 
returning. 

MALART, after a pause 

I find you in strange places. Master mine. 



88 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

ABELARD, stemly 
And I suspect you of still stranger things. 



Why are you here 



MALART, impertnrhahly 
And you? 

ABELARD 

I'll not brook questions. 

MALART 

You wear a coronet now, I have heard. 

ABELARD 

An honorable one. 

MALART 

And it can aid you 
To greater place than ever could have crowned you 
From your old humbler station. 

ABELARD, avoiding his direct gaze 
It may be. 

MALART, coming closer 
And yet you bring it here. 

ABELARD, recovering his hearing 
Why not? 



ACT ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 89 

MALART 

For what? 

ABELARD 

You asked the question; you can answer it. 

MALART, ajter a long look at him 
Brother, the holy synod has convened. 

ABELARD 

So it has done before. 

MALART 

Never so wisely, 
For they discuss and favor an aUiance 
Between the University and Rome! 

ABELARD, starting 
At last! So then I've won that next high step! 
Now with the Church's treasury and power 



He muses. 

MALART 



Why, then, do you wait here 



ABELARD, looking Up 

Ah, here's the place 
Better than any, when good news arise. 
Here I can share them! 

MALART 

Share them, in what way? 



90 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

ABELARD 

In every way that blessing makes secure. 

MALART, following him about 
Then rouse your sleeping memory. 

ABELARD, stopping 

Memory? 

MALART 

You know the Church's and all Europe's law; 
Masters and tutors of the fledgling youth 
Shall be and must be ever celibate! 

ABELARD, with sudden desperation 

So this is what you do; you bring a cup 
Perfect to appease my thirsty longing. 
And then, when it brims, glowing against my lips, 
Shatter it! 

MALART, quietly 

No, the cup is perfect yet. 

ABELARD, walking excitedly about 
Never, now, never shall it quench me. 



MALART, going to him 
ABELARD 

You seek to hear what you already know. 



Why? 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 91 

MALART 

You Still hold now your former mad intent? 

ABELARD, halting 

Though it should lead me to the tottering verge 

Of tideless death and past it, I will follow. 

For in her eyes there is a better thing; 

I've seen it — and upon an instant breathed 

Airs out of Paradise 

He pauses. 

though the place itself 
No longer is. 

MALART 

And you would lose the world 
For the poor sake of that one instant's breath? 

ABELARD, fixedly 
When on the altar our fierce double fires 
Are woven into one, I then shall live 
Within that odorous and that golden air 
Always ! 

MALART, sneeringly 
You speak of altars easily. 

ABELARD 

There's not a church in France will not unite us. 

MALART, approaching him 
Against her will? 



92 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act it 

ABELARD 

What vacant words are these? 

MALART 

She'll never fold her wings to fit that nest ; 
She knows of wilder and more easy skies. 

ABELARD 

Then you know little of the love she holds. 

MALART 

I never doubted her desire of you. 

ABELARD, looking long at him 
Speak the lame thing that halts behind your eyes. 

MALART, with assumed carelessness 
No need. She has herself begun to speak. 

ABELARD, impatiently turning away 
Why do I listen to this emptiness? 

MALART, stopping him 
One further word. 

ABELARD 

Of what? 

MALART 

I seek for knowledge. 
Be tribunal for me who am a priest: 
When woman shall deny her womanhood 
What shall be said of her? 



ACT ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 93 

ABELARD wonderifigly 
Deny? 

MALART 

When she, 
Offered a table spread with hallowedness, 
Declines, forsakes, rejects it and returns 
To honied husks and fleshpots she has known 
Outside the all too sternly bitter law. 
When being offered honorable veils 
She turns a wilful, bold, and naked face 
By wild refusal of the name of wife? 

ABELARD, seizing him 
Malart, you dog! What intimation's this? 

MALART, with afjected simplicity 
None, I have none in mind, but only seek 
For a wise judgment upon such a woman. 

ABELARD 

Be carefuller of your Hfe, you gnaw upon me 

Like a blind querulous worm. Why do you ask this? 

MALART 

Only to know of womankind from one 
Who knows them well. 

ABELARD, flinging him off toward the door 
I would be rid of you. 



94 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

MALART, standing by doorway 
First, judgment on the case of my supposing 

ABELARD 

A vain supposing 

MALART 

There are many women 

ABELARD 

None would be such a wanton and a fool. 

MALART, starting triumphantly 

So! I have found firm rock in you at last! 

Enter Heloise by door at side. She is paler and more 
listless than before. 

Now let this entering sea wear it away! 

Exit Malart. 

ABELARD 

The sea! He named you so — are you indeed 
That soft insistent deep that breaks upon me, 
Wearing my granite-Hke conviction down? 

HELOISE 

I would not be so. 

ABELARD 

Then forget those words 
That late you uttered. 



ACT ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 95 

HELOISE 

What words do you mean? 

ABELARD 

Hesitant, weak, evasive — all unfit 

To match that radiance that we two have known. 

HELOISE, painjully 

O Love, I would not seem to you so poor, 
So lacking. 

ABELARD 

Is it so? Then speak again. 
Efface those former words by better ones. 

HELOISE 

What shall I speak of? 

ABELARD 

If you love me, show it. 

HELOISE, in a low voice 
By words? 

ABELARD 

There is a time when words are needed. 

HELOISE, listlessly 
What would you have me say? 



96 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act u 

ABELARD 

What heavy strangeness 
Is this, that you, who were the very voice 
And instrument that made Love musical, 
Are dumb? 

HELOISE 

I'll speak then of whatever thing 
You wish of me. 

ABELARD 

Of! ''Of" is not enough! 
What is the word and how the thing is said. 

HELOISE 

What shall it be? 

ABELARD, impatiently 

Do you no longer love me? 

HELOISE, in a monotone 
I love you. 

ABELARD, pondering a moment 
That seems now no longer 
To be enough. Give me your eager answer 
To bear that joy that I would share with you 
As I have sought. 

HELOISE, suddenly going to him and putting her hands on 
his shoulders 
Oh, ask me once again.- 



ACTii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 97 

ABELARD, not meeting her gaze 
What shall I ask? 

HELOISE 

What you desire of me. 

ABELARD 

How! Are you deaf? 

HELOISE, as to herselj 

Oh, I am listening. 

ABELARD 

I only seek to have you follow me. 

HELOISE, still watching him 
And you? 

ABELARD 

Away with thoughts and cares of me! 
For I have pulled the unselfish flower of love, 
And see how brighter than all laurels are 
The petals of it. 

HELOISE, steadily^ after gazing long at him 
I'll follow you while I am Heloise 
And you the Abelard that desires it so. 

ABELARD 

Why, this is all I sought. 

He moves away and then turns back to her. 

We'll go at once 
To Paris. 



98 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

HELOISE 

Oh, not there! 

ABELARD 

And why? 

HELOISE 

Not yet; 
Until that storm subsides. 

ABELARD 

We are the powers 
Shall clear that sky. 

HELOISE 

How? 

ABELARD 

By our joined hands. 
There by the altar's potent sacrament 
This tempest of foul tongues will all be stilled. 

HELOISE, with a mighty effort 
Not to that altar can I ever come. 

ABELARD, taking several steps backward and surveying her 
dumjounded 

Your soul veers ever like a windy flame; 

This moment fledged your glad consent to follow, 

And now you pierce it with this strange denial! 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 99 

HELOISE, looking away from him 

I did consent to go where you may lead 
While you may wish it. 

ABELARD 

What! 

He instinctively shrinks away jrom her. 

O hellish thought! 
You would put off that white and holy veil 
To cHng to nakedness? 

HELOISE 

I'll still be clothed 
In secret robes and many hidden veils. 

She pauses and then speaks brokenly. 
I pray you wait and — ^you shall see me wear them. 

ABELARD, lifting his hands above his head 
This makes the sky itself a brazen thing. 

HELOISE 

I pray you, do not think of me, but turn 
Your eyes upon yourself in this wild hour. 
All this large world is yours and you the world's 
Knitted and welded in joint ownership. 
I am but one of all your wide possessions. 

LOFC 



loo ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

ABELARD, staring at her 

By some damned echo his prophecy has brought 
This spell upon you. Waken! Shake it off! 

HELOISE 

This day for the first time I have awakened 
And shall not sleep again. 

ABELARD, ajter considering for a time 
Evil Hke this 
Also should v^^aken me, and yet I find 
My dream-like flame leans to you still unquenched. 

HELOISE 

May we not strive now to forget this hour? 

ABELARD 

Only by changing can it be effaced. 

HELOISE 

I — cannot — change. But you — perchance — it may 

be- 
Afterwards — on a day — may we not see 
Even our way to that same altar at last? 

ABELARD 

But even now that way is easiest. 

HELOISE, quickly 

Yes. 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE loi 

ABELARD 

Then recall that insane sudden urge 
To journey on the impassable thorny road, 
When this fair garden is accessible. 

HELOISE 

Are there no other gardens? 

ABELARD 

If there are, 
Only together can we win their fruits. 

HELOISE 

What is that fruitage? 

ABELARD 

All that this good world 
Can give! 

HELOISE 

Even now you did despise that world. 

ABELARD 

So to compare it with my need of you. 

HELOISE 

O Love, the way is easy only here. 
Pray let me be a roadside well for you 
That you shall find and find again wherever 
The path shall lead you and your thirst shall be. 



I02 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

Drink then of me and be refreshed and quickened. 
But never let me be the sleeping draught 
The altar would distil of me for you. 

ABELARD 

A deeper evil than these v^ords you speak 
Could never come from v^oman. 

HELOISE 

Pray be kinder. 

ABELARD 

I would have been content in such a bondage. 
You could have made it sweet. 

HELOISE 

Is bondage ever? 
Cords of fine silk and fetters of soft gold 
In time will gall. 

ABELARD 

Why do I stand here so, 
And hear alluring vileness painted so, 
Who am already compassed in a net? 

He goes desperately about the room. 

But I will tear it— I'll be rid of it. 
And you, the wearer 

HELOISE, wildly 
Abelard! 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 103 

ABELARD, more calmly 

No, not that. 
Musing hall l^ himselj. 

'Tis not so easy even now. I'll not 

Give pain to you who pour so much upon me. 

But what's the way? 

Heloise suddenly starts toward the doorway at hack, a noise 
is heard without and Fulbert appears at the door in trav- 
eling costume with his men behind. 

FULBERT 

Ha! here's my rat at last! 
Trapped at the bait! 

He walks around Abelard with jerocious deliberation, then 
halts and shouts to his men. 

Bring irons, ho! 

HELOISE 

Hold and listen! 
He is not now the man you took him for. 

FULBERT 

Off, desperate fool, I know him but too well. 

HELOISE 

He has a place at the King's council — 



I04 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

FULBERT 

What! 

HELOISE 

— being Lord of Berenger! 

FULBERT 

By what new coil? 

HELOISE 

No coil indeed, but death. His father's heir 
Wears his descended cloak. 

FULBERT, meaningly 

I thought his father 
Would have outhved him; but that makes no less 
His damned offence. 

ABELARD 

I have come here to whiten 
Those black offendings by my proffered hand 

HELOISE, starting between them 
No — no 

ABELARD 

in honorable marriage to her. 

HELOISE 

No 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 105 

FULBERT, turning upon her 

Peace. 

To Ahelard. 
So! Is it so? 

Pondering deeply. 

de Berenger — 
Here is a way to paten up broken hopes. 

Again to Ahelard. 
What can you offer? 

ABELARD 

I have said, my hand. 
Heloise dumbly tries to prevent his speaking. 

FULBERT, sneeringly 

What does the hand hold, that is now the mark? 
What lands? What coffers? Are you fat or lean? 
Marred though she is I hold her at great figures. 

ABELARD, haughtily 

My secretary in the servants' hall 

Is keeper of my books. He'll broke with brokers. 

FULBERT, wrapped in his new scheme 

So? I'll go see. The thing may be arranged. 
I'll price you. I will weigh you, and perchance 
This sorry barter can be well exchanged. 

Exit Fulbertj muttering to himself. 



io6 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

ABELARD 

Now it must be. He's set upon this track. 
There can be no retreating now for you. 

HELOISE, half to herself 

What path? Oh, I am dazed in a web. 
Danger was in my silence, danger in speech. 

ABELARD 

Do you remain in that most damned denial 
Of both our better selves? 

HELOISE 

I must not change. 

ABELARD, leaving her 

What can it mean? No other human woman 
Would hold unalterably to such foul madness. 

He suddenly stops. 

Ah, can it come from too great weight of learning? 

He goes to her. 

Books, books have woven all this wrong around you. 

Terrible crimes of old, dead evil tales, 

Wild bloody griefs and agonies unnamed 

Have crept into your blood, and there envenomed 

Your maiden judgment. 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 107 

HELOISE 

The thing I mean to do 
Was never on a written page set down. 

ABELARD 

Surely this cloud upon your brain will pass, 
But while it stays, some danger threatens us. 

He looks about him. 

Your uncle is jaundiced with the yellow of gold, 
And swollen monstrous to a thing of dread. 

HELOISE 

While you remain, I'll shield you from his hand. 

ABELARD, still looking about and shuddering 
Vague fear surrounds rne. We must leave this 

house. 
This air is rotten, dank, detestable. 
Its glooms have poisoned you from purity. 
Go to Argenteuil where your childhood was. 
Its flowers will woo you back to innocence. 

HELOISE 

Without you? No. 



I'll never follow. 



ABELARD 

Unless you go at once 



io8 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act n 

HELOISE 

But if I do go 
When will you come to me? 

ABELARD 

When I have gone 
First to Paris where great business calls me. 
We must not stay, but in an hour go. 
I will have horses hidden in the orchard 
And ride with you until our paths diverge. 
He turns from her suddenly^ overtaken by his jormer mood. 

Oh, damnable hour that life should bring me this! 
I seem to be attainted with your madness. 
I'll go and think. 

He moves toward the door and speaks half musingly as he 
goes. 

Think what? And how escape? 

Exit Ahelard. 

Heloise stands white and tottering jor a moment and then 
calls Luce. Enter Luce. 

HELOISE 

Now make me ready for a journey, Sweet, 
For I am going. 

LUCE, joyfully 
Ah, you've seen at last 
The better, easier way. 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 109 

HELOISE 

Better — perhaps 



LUCE, looking at her 
You chose the other! Why? 

HELOISE, turning away 

Do you remember 
Sad Lucan singing in his battle cry 
Of how on Lesbos once the white Cornelia, 
Receiving message of her husband's death, 
Whom she by marriage had brought evil on. 
Mourned to the phantom of her loved one's face, 
While his gray awful manes came all about 
And watched her keep a dagger in her hand 
While she died on it? Oh, the dagger first. 
She should have used it first before she wedded. 

LUCE, clasping her 
Rest here a little. 

HELOISE, loosing herself 

I must haste. And now 
I'll say farewell and send you to your love. 

LUCE 

I'll never leave you. 



no ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

HELOISE, putting her off sadly 

Take a double blessing; 
My portion that 1 put away from me 
Take for your own and have in double store. 

She kisses Luce's brow. 

The blessing of deep peace now take from me. 
Safety's a blessing, then receive that too. 
The joy of going forth into the day 
Untaunted by the world, that too I give you. 

LUCE 

The path you choose will cause you to deny 
Thousands of joys hke these 

HELOISE, continuing as unhearing 

And you shall see 
Young faces round your hearth. 

Her head sinks. 

LUCE 

O Piteous Heart 

HELOISE 

This I, who shall not see them, give to you. 

LUCE 

But what shall you have left? 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE iii 

HELOISE 

Ah, him I have 



She pauses. Then kisses Luce. 

Go, then, and gather my few jewels up. 
For I must bring him all the dower I have. 

Luce moves sadly toward the door. 

HELOISE, calling 
Luce. 

Luce returns to her. 

Once more — the ring. 

LUCE, wonderingly 

What ring? 
Heloise looks at Luce^s hand. 

You mean ? 

HELOISE 

This one; I'll only look at it once more. 

She examines it. 

It seems a little thing. Ah, never fear, 

I will not put it on. 

She gives it hack. 

And now prepare me. 

Luce moves toward the door^ Heloise follows her^ hut sounds 
are heard without and they stop, listening. The noise 
grows and resolves its el j into the sound oj Fulhert^s voice 



112 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

and of people approaching. Enter Fulbert by doorway at 
back. He is beckoning and calling to his guests and 
household who follow him^ entering the room and arrang- 
ing themselves en masse at one side. They stare at 
Heloise opposite them with sneers and insolent bearing. 

FULBERT 

Ho all! 

Heloise starts to go. Fulbert detains her. 

Stay here. 

To servants. 

Summon the rest to me. 

Exeunt servants, who, while he is speaking, enter with otlicr 
guests. He mutters to himself while the guests are ar- 
ranging themselves, 

'Twill pass — far richer than I thought — safe profits 

Looking up. 

Here's news for you and I'll be Fortune's herald ; 
A fortunate marriage; a great marriage made! 

A stir among the guests. 

My niece ! Ah — so you thought her virginal ! 

The guests look meaningly at each other. 

We've kept it dark, great holdings were involved — 
Deeds must be signed, agreements ratified. 
But now all's fixed. Greet her and joy with her, 
The Lady Heloise de Berenger, 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 113 

' By God's and Peter's Church's sanctioning 
The consort of Count Pierre called Abelard, 
Master of treasures in rich Bretagne. 

During this speech Heloise has first made a frantic gesture 
as though to prevent her uncle^s words; hut as he pro- 
ceeds she seems to calm herselj and stands looking straight 
before her. As her uncle ceases there is a pause, during 
which he looks triumphantly at his surprised and crest- 
fallen guests. Heloise steps forward with deliberation 
and begins to speak. 

HELOISE 

Uncle, your rashness has discharged a bolt 

Straight up against the inexorable air, 

And such must fall upon the sender's head. 

I would have spared you this last public wound 

Who have brought upon you so much private grief 

UnwilHngly. Yet I must speak at last. 

If this announcement I have heard be truth, 

Then that bright truth whose face reflects my heart 

Has swum into a black eclipse from you. 

If this be truth and you are all awake, 

Then I am sleeping and speak this in sleep. 

If truth's alive and you have heard his voice, 

Then I am dead and you behold my phantom. 

Fulbert moves to prevent her, but she goes on. 

But truth's alive and I'm alive and waking. 

As to herself' 



114 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

Though I may hear my voice as in a dream. 
The guests look at each other with malignant satis jaction. 

Listen and know I am awake. I hear 
Whispers about me, little buzzing stings, 
I see the skirt withdrawn, the eyes that pass me, 
And smiles that are too slant to make me glad. 
Then hear that what my uncle says is false. 
Hear how my voice cries false into your ears. 
Let them remember how it thundered "False!" 
And let them echo always "False, False!" 

rULBERT, rushing wildly forward 

What! O fool unspeakable, delirious mumming 
fool! 

The guests y maliciously delighted, begin to move toward 
door at back. Fulbert stays them. 

Hold, wait! A lie — mistake — let me consider 

He muses frantically for a moment. 

What hope's left. He looks up illuminated. 

Ah! To Heloise. 

Now nail your insane tongue 
Fast to your mouth's roof and I'll save us yet. 

To guests. 

A small mistake — my niece would be precise — 

Those Httle niceties of her sex's mind — 

Not yet — she says — she has not quite been wedded — 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 115 

The outward vows and mutterings at the altar — 
Not yet, only betrothed she'd have me say. 

Heloise moves. The guests appear again baffled. Fidbert 
again proceeds triumphantly. 

And so her rich betrothal I announce, 

And more ; this night all here shall see the marriage ! 



A word! 



HELOISE 
FULBERT 

Not one. 

Enter Ahelard. He halts with amazement just within the 
doorway. 

HELOISE 

It will take more than one. 

She goes in front of her uncle. He tries to prevent her. 

He whose high name has here and otherwhere 
Been Hnked with mine has given me enough. 
I wear a purple that no flower can yield. 
He made the sun and moon my diadem. 
The hours I know of are about my soul, 
Like a high wall against assaihng tongues. 
He has been free before and shall be ever. 
Free to pursue that upward path he walks 
Toward that high radiance that is his ambition. 



ii6 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii 

Free to be first himself, and afterwards 

To be the world's and glory's — being free. 

On the bright mountains of whatever star 

Looks down upon his any need of me 

My throne is fixed and there I'll reign for him 



The guests with malice triumphant move toward the door 
and exeunt with looks and sneers askance. Heloise 
slowly goes toward doorway followed by Luce. As they 
pass Ahelard he speaks aside to her. 

ABELARD, in a hurried whisper ^ aside to Heloise 
Mad, mad — to Argenteuil — the horses wait. 

HELOISE, pleadingly 
You, with me. 

ABELARD 

To the crossing road to Paris. 

Exeunt Heloise and Luce. Ahelard takes a step toward 
Fulbertf who is standing paralyzed by his monstrous and 
impotent jury^ but as he sees Fulbert^s face he turns slowly 
and goes out by the door opposite to that through which 
Heloise passed. Fulbert is now left alone with three of 
his henchmen. 

FULBERT 

Lost! Sixty thousand guilders and the name! 

He suddenly beckons to his three henchmen. 

Approach ! 

He points to Abelard^s retreating figure. 



ACT II] ABELARD AND HELOISE 117 

Mark that pale pestilence going there, 
For this disease is all of his infection ! 

Wiih jranlic questioning. 
The cure? 

A HENCHMAN, insidiously 

When a man's hfe is tedious to you 
Then end it. 

rULBERT 

Faugh! That's Mercy's sedative. 
He muses ^ then with fiendish cunning suddenly looks up. 

I have it ! Ah ! The man — but not the life ! 

He draws the men closer and they whisper together. 



Curtain. 



ACT III 

Three months later. The garden of the Abbey oj Argen- 
teuil. The garden is enclosed on the lejt by the Abbey 
buildings^ into which there is a doorway. There is 
also a -flight of stairs on the outside of the building 
leading up to a small balcony at an upper window. 
At the back and on the right the garden is enclosed by a 
stone-covered cloister^ in the right corner of which is a 
gateway now closed. On the right is a fountain. In 
the foreground and surrounded by flowers is a large 
low sundial of white marble^ about two feet high and 
six feet in diameter. Through the foliage of the gar- 
den can be seen here and there stone benches and small 
oratories. It is about two hours before noon. In the 
garden are the three young nuns. Cecile is kneeling 
at an altar set against the wall at back. Teresa is 
reclining against the sundial asleep. Monica is stand- 
ing tensely watching something above her in the air. 

MONICA 

There ! 

CECILE, turning 
What? 

MONICA, pointing 
Getting rainbows from the fountain 

For burnishing its wings. There! 

She points away. 
ii8 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 119 

CECILE 

Monica, 
You are too old to chase a butterfly. 

MONICA 

This is more Hke a waterfall or voice 
Having wings. If we'd get near enough 
It might have word for Lady Heloise. 

CECILE, rising and coming jorward quickly 
Oh, might it? Then we'll woo it closer. Look! 

MONICA 

There! 

CECILE 

It goes up! 

MONICA 

High! Higher! To the window! 

She points to a window on the side wall. 
I'll go. 

She goes up the outside stair. 

CECILE 

You'll meet there. It's on the sill. 

MONICA, reaching the top 
Where is it now, Cecile? 

CECILE 

It goes! Beyond the wall. 



I20 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi 

MONICA, sadly 



Out to the world. 








CECILE 








Oh, it will come again. 






Shaking Teresa, 


who sleepily 


looks 


up. 


We'll have Teresa sit up there and watch 






She likes to be so still. 








She points 


to the upper 


window. 


Teresa, 


please. 






TERESA 








Is the sun warmer? 








MONICA 








Yes. 









Teresa slowly rises, goes up the stair rubbing her eyes and 
sits at the window after Monica descends. 

MONICA, to Cecile 

How many beads 
Have you now still to tell? 

CECILE, counting 

Six — five. 

MONICA 

What color? 

CECILE 

All white. 



Acxm] ABELARD AND HELOISE 121 

MONICA 

When Mother Gabriella comes 
She'll bring you red ones. 

CECILS 

And for you — what gift? 

MONICA 

My flower seeds. 

CECILE 

And something for Teresa? 

MONICA 

A comb so she will not forget her hair. 

CECILE 

If Mother knew that Lady Heloise 
Was here, she'd bring her 

MONICA 

That for which she waits. 

Slowly. 
I wonder what. 

CECILE 

She thinks the hours are long. 

MONICA 

Poor lady, since she came here I have counted 
And seen three separate moons come in the fountain. 



122 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

CECILS 

I love her dearly, and she's hke the candle 
I put before St. Stephen — never goes out, 
But watches, watches, watches 

MONICA 

Hush, she's here. 

Enter Heloise slowly from the Abbey. She comes wearily 
to Monica and puts her. arm about her. 

TERESA, peering languidly from her seat at the window 

above 
Sisters, a cloud is over the first wood. 

Heloise starts and looks at her intensely. 

MONICA 

Oh, some one comes! 

HELOISE 

Who, Sister, can you see? 

TERESA 

Not yet. 

MONICA 

Who will it be? 

CECILE 

The bishop, surely. ' 

TERESA 

How fast it comes. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 123 

CECILS 

Oh, never a priest then! 

TERESA 

It is a little cloud. 

HELOISE, to herself 

Ah, sightless guessers. 

CECILS 

Tell Sister Monica how the cloud is shaped. 
Sometimes she tells from that. She had the dream. 

TERESA, dully 
Why, just a cloud. 

CECILE 

Wait, I'll go see and tell. 
She runs up the stairs and looks eagerly ajar jrom the 
top. 

MONICA, looking at her 

What is the cloud like. Sister? 

CECILE 

Like a bee 
Questing along the tree-tops as for food. 
And being torn by every honied chalice; 
What would that mean? 

MONICA, closing her eyes 

Something of sorrow's there, 
But only of the summer. 



124 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi 

CECILE 

Now it changes — 
Larger — and makes a dove — and dove-colored, 

But ah — poor dove 

Her lace saddens. 

forget how high the sky 



Once was- 



HELOISE, staring hejore her 
Forget? 

CECILE 

It has a broken wing. 
Tell, Sister, what is that? 

MONICA 

It means more woe 
And more lasts all the year — 'twill never heal. 
What is it now? 

CECILE 

Oh, it grows giant now. 
The dove's an eagle! 

HELOISE 

Soaring? 

CECILE 

No, droops low. 
For — see — oh, it is limned with a chain, 
A chain of steel; the eagle is of air, 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 125 

The sun's upon it, and it first will melt 
Before the chain will fade. 

Looking down to Monica. 
What would that be? 

MONICA, bewildered 
I never saw an eagle. 

TERESA, scornfully 
It was only 
A changing cloud of dust. 

HELOISE 

Now, now, what now? 

CECILE 

Now it has entered on the Abbey wood, 
And now emerges — now — I see 

HELOISE 

His face! 

CECILE, not hearing her, but joyfully 
'Tis Mother Gabriella riding swiftly 

HELOISE, falteringly 
Alone? 

CECILE 

Alone. 

HELOISE 

There is no word " alone! " 



126 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi 

MONICA 

What do you say, Lady? 

HELOISE, turning away 

Nothing now. 

CECILE, joyfully running down the stairs and to the garden 
gate followed slowly by Teresa 

She's here! 

MONICA 

O Blessed! 
The gate is flung open and enter the Abbess, Gabriella, in 
travelling costume. 

HELOISE 

Mother! 

GABRIELLA, embracing her 
Heloise 1 

HELOISE 

Mother, what news have you? 

GABRIELLA, turning from her to a servant^ from whom she 

takes several packages and begins distributing them 

to the three young nuns 

Monica, take these. 

MONICA 

My seeds! 

GABRIELLA, giving package 
Teresa. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 127 



TERESA 

The comb! 

GABRIELLA 

And here, Cecile, 
Your beads. 

CECILE 

Oh, thank you! 

MONICA 

Thank you. 
They crowd about Gabriella^ embracing her. 

HELOISE, gazing at Gabriella 

Mother, have you news? 

GABRIELLA, pretending to be wholly occupied by the nuns 
What worldly daughters these; now off with you. 
Go do some penance for these gauds. Cecile, 
Go use your beads, make them look worn and wor- 
shipful. 
Monica, plant your seeds, the season's old. 
Soon will sad autumn coax the rose away. 
Then it's too late. Teresa, take your comb 
And comb your hair. Oh, what Medusa tendrils! 
I cannot tell them from the vines behind you. 

Off, off, all of you! 

Exeunt nuns. 



128 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

HELOISE, piteously 
All is well? 

GABRIELLA, pretending absent-mindedness 

Well ? 

She turns to Heloise briskly. 

Come, Heloise, and let me look at you. 

, O weary face, Sleep's been a stranger here. 

Come, sleep. 

She pulls Heloise toward the Abbey. 

I, too, am tired — here's the old nest. 

She draws Heloise' s head upon her bosom, 

HELOISE, drawing away 
Mother, did any one send news to me? 

GABRIELLA 

By me? No one. 

HELOISE 

Did you hear any one 
Say anything that I might long to hear? 

GABRIELLA, sadly 
None. 

HELOISE, ajter a pause 

Did you see my uncle there in Paris? 

GABRIELLA, shuddering 
Come and pour sleep upon those thirsty eyes. 
Your body's Hke a lamp, let the flame sleep. 
Or it will char you. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 129 

HELOISE 

Oh, your words evade me. 
She searches Gahriella^s face^ hut the Abbess remains silent. 
Then let me speak to you. 

GABRIELLA, seating herself on the sundial and pulling He- 
loise down beside her 

Speak all your heart. 

HELOISE, after a pause 
When you were three days gone from here I came — 
To wait. Since then three months of motionless 

hours 
Have hung here and died upward like a smoke. 
Where is your hand? I wait him whom the world 
Knows only night without. But first to tell you; 
You know of whom I tell? 

GABRIELLA, looking away 

I know of him. 

HELOISE 

Where's the beginning? Oh, it had none first. 

He was made tutor to me, he, the life 

And pillar of flame to lead the darkHng world, 

Came to sit by me in a little chamber. 

And more than he came with him. It was soon. 

It came. I would have stayed it, bade it come 

At least more slowly, softer, but there was 

No gradual arising of the mind: 



I30 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act in 

'Twas instant storm, as if the once white sky 

Bloomed to a cloud that rained the flood of dreams, 

And unto him all flowed as to the sea. 

It was too much. I would not have it less 

But for his sake. We could not keep it back. 

All Paris rang. You heard? 

GABRIELLA, in a low voice 

Yes, I have heard. 

HELOISE 

Then you know later the windings of that path; 
What I denied, what he desired of me. 
Never, never would it have been best 
For him. There was no other path for me, 
Else I'd have found it out. 

GABRIELLA 

The path's not ended — 
But here's the end. 

She points to the Abbey and clasps Heloise to her breast. 

HELOISE, moving away 
Mother! 

GABRIELLA 

/' These walls will stand 

I Not always. And yet long enough to hold you 
J Safely until the iron but tenderest key 
I Turns softly in the locked wards of your life, 
1 To give the lovingest of all releases. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 131 

HELOISE, rising 
Ah, stones to eat. 

GABRIELLA 

It is indeed a stone, 
But firm, unfailing and all mossy soft. 
Rest, rest upon it. Let the world be closed 
As a wild, dreadful book with tossing pages, 
Wherein the letters tremble as a flame 
About tempestuous pictures Hmned in tears. 
Not to be finished lest the story grow 
To be one's own. 

HELOISE 

He reads it. I will read. 

GABRIELLA 

The page is written and read, you cannot blot it. 
Ah, stay with me — we — have our memories. 

She rises and moves away. 

HELOISE, looking after her wonderingly 
You? 

GABRIELLA 

I — yes, I will share them with you. 



HELOISE, rising 

GABRIELLA, returning to Heloise 
God has not always had me for a bride. 
O Heloise, this is quite wrung from me, 



Mother! 



132 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

For it was buried deeper than it seemed 
As in a well from which your thirst has drawn 
All my cool covering and disclosed at last 
Deep on the bottom — me — remembering, 
Whom men once called Rohais de Mont- Quarrel. 
The name seems rusty now. 

HELOISE, wonderingly 

But she — ah, she — 
Yes, I have heard the story, loved 

GABRIELLA 

The King. 

HELOISE 

Oh, piteous! 

GABRIELLA 

Ah, no, gladness, for he loved me. 
But nations also have their marriages. 
And when they wed, some offering must be made. 
What are two lives? Yet two Hves are enough. 
They took him from me, but they cannot take 
Something of majesty he left with me. 

HELOISE 

Now let me touch you and give back your pity 
Who have been but a mirror to your sorrow. 

She now holds Gahriella upon her own breast. 
And you have offered tender cups to me, 
Who should have strewn upon you buds of comfort. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 133 

GABRIELLA 

The roots of comfort now no longer reach 
So deep as where I lie; my blessedness 
Now is that I have lost the need of them. 
Only to keep the quiet that I have 
Is all my prayer. And still one cup I offer; 
Drink and descend with me and be at rest. 

HELOISE 

'Tis only mine to take what he shall give. 

GABRIELLA 

I would not urge, had I not to my lips 
Put the same bitterness. 

HELOISE 

Was it the same? 

GABRIELLA 

I left my life. 

HELOISE 



Did they not take him from you 

GABRIELLA, sodly 

I cannot reason with you. 

HELOISE 

O my Sweet, 
Have I not known already the same grief? 
The heart of yours, for it was true already 
When I my beauteous marriage veil declined, 
That I, for my love's sake, denied my love. 



134 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

But his love I will not deny, his only 

I will keep safe and battle with the world 

To keep it. 

GABRIELLA 

Here is safety for that love. 

HELOISE 

It dwells where he is, and he is not here. 
Where I am will be only found — a flame. 

GABRIELLA 

Flames must leave ashes when they die away. 

HELOISE 

The flame I am will never be made cool. 

GABRIELLA, watching her pityingly 
But he ? 

HELOISE 

He could not. His exhaustless soul 
Burns with no earthy, perishable fire, 
But always — as a star. 

GABRLELLA 

Yet stars grow pale 
x\nd hurl their cinders on the breast of earth, 
Dealing out death to that which welcomes them. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 135 

HELOISE 

Then on that saddest and most pitiful night 
When this should happen, if it could indeed, 
I would arise, having enough for both, 
And gather those charred pieces all to me, 
And from this bosom hght them all anew. 
And send them flaming out against the sky. 

GABRIELLA 

Is there no doom seems even possible? 

Are you so blind with him, deafened with life, 

That you can have no dream of shadow's wreck. 

Nor hear before the tempest falls the cry 

Of warning from the lurking, misty rocks? 

HELOISE 

My faith's the sky above me and 'tis day. 
When the night falls I'll have my star again. 

GABRIELLA 

But if the star vanished, pointing to this place? 

HELOISE 

It would not be where he should point that I 
Should note, but where he faded from my vision. 
Then I, too, would no more again be seen. 
Being gone to follow after and to find him. 



i 



136 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act in 



GABRIELLA 

Yet the wise sailor in an ominous calm 
Furls his glad sails, remembers other storms 
And fortifies his ship with preparation. 

HELOISE 

And I, too, do remember other storms. 
They have all fallen, the sky is rid of them. 
None can descend, for none remain above. 

GABRIELLA 

Oh, it is better to be warned before 

Than to be solaced after 

She looks long at Heloise, her eyes jiill oj the message that 
she cannot speak. 

HELOISE 

Has this meaning? 

GABRIELLA 

Heloise, upon the road from Paris 
I met with Malart. 

HELOISE 

Alone? 

GABRIELLA 

Alone. 

HELOISE 

Oh, speak, 
You did not tell me. What have you kept back? 
For he is doom's foreboder and tempest petrel, 
Shrieking forever on the front of storm 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 137 

GABRIELLA 

Come, come within this harbor here forever, 

Before another and more dreadful wind 

Lifts from the deep's grim face to drag you down. 

HELOISE 

Though danger thunder on danger from the abyss, 
I'll keep my eyes set seaward to my haven 
And that great anchorage which he holds for me. 

GABRIELLA 

Then make your eyes of stone, for you must face 
A dreadful sunset. I can plead no further. 

She rises and moves away. 
There are no words. 

HELOISE, following her 

Ah, mother, now forgive me, 
I have been selfish, careless, flinty, cruel. 
But oh, your sorrow is my sorrow also 
And in my heart my arms are close about you 
To fold you in a tenderer, nearer way. 
We must be tenderer to each other now. 

GABRIELLA 

Remember that whatever grief assails you, 
Here on this island of the terrible world 
I wait to welcome you to quietness. 
And now, at least, come in and sleep a while. 



138 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

HELOISE 

I could not sleep, my Sweet, I'll wander here, 
Maybe my sleep will overtake me here. 

GABRIELLA 

You must not be alone, even with Sleep; 

I'll send you sweet companions, I'll go summon 

Going. 
My happiest loves. 

Exit, calling. 

Teresa, Monica, 
Cecile — — 

HELOISE, alone 

Malart! Omen of what new sorrow? 

Portent most dreadful of what dreadful grief? 

And she — ah, her own sorrow buried deep — 

Oh, what's this world that holds me mirrors up 

In every face and aspect that I see. 

And my own face a mirror that reflects them 

Image within image; and within — within — 

In infinite vista, sorrow multiplied 

Each the deep semblance of my griefs own face. 

Enter from the Abbey and approaching Heloise jrom behind, 
the three young nuns. 

CECILE, shyly to Heloise 
Please can we not put sadness off to-day? 

HELOISE, turning and seeing the nuns 
What shall we do to make us gay? 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 139 

CECILE 

I know, 
Tell fortunes. 

HELOISE 

Good. Come, Monica, and join us. 

Monica has been standing back of the others^ looking at 
Heloise. 

CECILE 

Sister Monica has a flower for you. 

Monica comes forward and gives Heloise a flower. 

HELOISE 

Ah, that's the thing, I'll tell your fortunes so 
Each is a flower. 

CECILE 

Then what is Monica? 

HELOISE 

Do we not know our shyest sister here 

Full of deep dreams and many hidden hours? 

CECILE 

I'll never guess her. 

TERESA 

Tell us. 

HELOISE 

She is gentian. 



I40 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi 

CECiLE and teresa 

Yes, yes. 

HELOISE 

—And our best dreamer; see, those bluets 
That she is wearing in her fringed eyes. 
Are gathered from a sky that knows all secrets. 
She reads our hearts as in a brimming glass. 
Monica has been looking steadily into Heloise's eyes. 

CECILE 

Read, Monica, oh, read Lady Heloise 

Monica turns suddenly away. 

CECILE 

Tell what you saw! 

TERESA, looking at Monica 

She has tears in her eyes. 

HELOISE, taking up another flower 

And here is Heal-AU that was once the nun 

Brunella, she who prayed to be a flower 

That she might with a wiser alchemy 

Take sweetness from the earth and dew and air 

To work her cures. Then come, Cecile, and wear it, 

For this is you. 

Giving the flower to Cecile, 

CECILE, looking at her 

Please take it back again 
And make it comfort you when you are sad. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 141 

TERESA 

Tell me what I am. 

HELOISE 

Yes, let's tell Teresa. 
What flower grows wild, gives bread, gets dust upon 

it? 
What flower is softest and yet has no dreams? 
That has wide eyes, yet never a mood in them? 
What flower is most content of all? 

MONICA 

That's mallow. 

HELOISE 

Sister Teresa is the mallow flower, 

And she's the one of us who is most sure 

Of happiness. 

TERESA 

I never wanted it; 
I like to sit all quiet in the sun. 

CECILS 

Tell, what would Mother Gabriella be? 

HELOISE 

A russet seeming with a heart all red, 
A scarlet beacon that makes autumn kinder. 
Summer's best promise to the winter gray 
That spring will come again — guess. 



142 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act m 

MONICA 

Bitter sweet! 

CECILE 

That's a good telling. And now tell us yours. 

HELOISE 

My own? Now here comes blindness back again 
And all is hid 

CECILE 

Let Sister Monica, 
She peers within and sees, as you have said. 

HELOISE, to Monica 
If you see any portent in the world 
For me, sweet oracle, be kind, reveal it. 

MONICA, looking at her 
No, you have many thoughts; please tell us some. 

HELOISE, turning away and then coming to them again 
I've only flowers for you, they're happier. 
No visions, they're of air, take flowers instead. 

She plucks a handful of flowers and shows them. 

Here is Herb Robert, — Robin of the Wood 
That sheds a rosebeam from a tower of gray — 
He's the best comrade for a lonely heart. 
And yellow star-grass that swims in a field 
When autumn steals the summer's gold away. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 143 

And Cyclamen that tries to go from earth 
And wins its colored feathers from the sky- 
To make new wings with; and here's Jewel Weed 
That keeps one morning's dew through all its life. 
And last of all here is Dream Jasmine for you. 

She gives it to Monica, 
MONICA 

Oh, thank you, does it make a dream come true? 

HELOISE 

No flower does that. This gives a better dream. 

CECILE 

You know the flowers' names, come tell them all. 

What's this? 

Holding up a flower. 

HELOISE, seating herself on the sundial with the nuns 
Ah, now, beware, that's St. John's Wort, 
The fairy doorway, on midsummer night 
After all's done, the mighty labors ended; 
Counting CeciHa's prayers for a whole year. 
Planting soft dreams for Monica to gather. 
And with the points of moonbeams making combs 
To lure this hair to be straight gold again. 

Touching Teresa^ s hair. 
Suddenly, swiftly, on the tick of dawn 
The sleeping bee booms his faint goblin drum 
Once, and the fairies are upon their way. 



144 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ill 

They do not go on some glad upward path 

But enter downward here. 

Showing flower. 

And as they go, 

With hair-fine swords and bee-sting javeHns drawn, 

They thrust and cut and hew toward this warm 

world, 

Striking the outward and sweet-seasoned air 

And so make sad retreat and disappear. 

See, the poor petals are all hacked and stabbed, 

By accident the fairy weapons did it. 

CECILE 

What do they fear outside? 

HELOISE 

I cannot tell. 
The fairy's dead that knew. 

TERESA 

They must have all 
Known once, and afterward forgotten it. 

MONICA 

And what is this upon the fountain's edge? 

Showing flower, 

HELOISE 

Sea Lavender! But we'll not have that tale. 

MONICA 

But why? 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 145 

HELOISE 

Too sad. 

CECILE 

Oh, tell it. Tell such tales. 

HELOISE, taking the flower 
This was the Lady Rosemarine that loved 

CECILE 

But that's not sad. 

HELOISE 

He whom she loved went out 
Upon a sad sea journey from her side. 
And if on any beach he ever landed, 
'Twas not that weary margin where she stood 
Waiting. 

MONICA 

And did he never then return? 

HELOISE 

He has not yet. And there upon the rocks 
With all the weary hours about her head, 
The heavy tides asway about her feet, 
But with her eyes forever where the sky 
Locks fast upon the sea, she clung and held 
Until at last she still was there for him. 
But was a flower. You always find it low. 
Touching the wave at the most seaward places. 
Some one has gathered it and brought it here. 



146 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi 

MONICA 

Ah, Rosemarine. And still there is the ghost 
Of red and white about her. Poor sad lady! 

CECILE 

Why did he not return? 

HELOISE 

Oh, he will come. 
He stays to bring more shining argosies 
Laden with glories for her to put on. 
Or else he seeks new jewels for her brow. 

CECILE 

But that would only make it heavier, 
And she's aweary in a tattered gown. 

TERESA 

You said awhile ago that we'd be gay, 
But now we are not. 

HELOISE, rising 

No, what shall we do? 

TERESA 

Did you play games here at the Abbey once? 

HELOISE 

Why, yes, and I remember all of them. 
Let's have one. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 147 

TERESA AND CECILE 

Yes, yes. 

HELOISE 

And what shall it be? 
The Fountain Song, do you still have it here? 

CECILE 

Yes. 

HELOISE 

And The Dial Sister'^ 

TERESA 

Yes. 

HELOISE 

What others? 

MONICA 

Did you play Mary's Garden} 

HELOISE 

I remember. 

CECILE 

Then that's the one. Come, let us play it now. 

Get flowers. 

They all gather handjuls 0} flowers, 

HELOISE 

Now who'll begin? 



148 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

MONICA 

Teresa, you. 
They join hands and dance in a circle^ about the sundial. 

TERESA, singing 
Let us weave a garden for our Mother Mary 

CECILE 

Where no heart shall harden and no wind shall vary. 

MONICA 

Then must every flower that ever grew be in it 

HELOISE 

Life's elusive hour, Love's immortal minute. 

They change and dance about the fountain. 

MONICA, singing 
Every tender daughter brings a gift to sow. 

HELOISE 

Love shall be the water that shall make it grow. 

She dances forwardy takes water in her hand, throws it 
upward and the dance again changes to the dial. 

TERESA, singing 
Of all the hues that grow in me I bring her of my 

best. 

Throwing daisies on the dial. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 149 

CECILS 

These lilies from the snow in me and mosses from 
my rest. 

Throwing lilies and moss on the dial. They change again 
to the fountain. 

MONICA 

And cresses from the wave I am for fountains of 

her own. 

Throwing cresses in the fountain. 

HELOISE 

If roses she will crave I am the rose that would be 
sown. 

Throwing a rose in the fountain. A hell sounds from the 
Abbey; they pause. 

CECILE 

There is our lady calHng, we must go; 
So end it. 

HELOISE 

Let me see — what is the end? 

MONICA 

Not a sprig of rue 

HELOISE 

Ah yes, I know 

Singing. 

Not a sprig of rue, 

They dance again. 



I50 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

MONICA 

But to make it true, fernseed from the fairies. 
ALL, with a wild whirly throwing flowers everywhere 

And the Garden's Mary's! 

They stop, out oj breath and radiant, 

TERESA, to Heloise, going 

That was the best of all we ever danced 

Exit. 
CECILE, to Heloise 
— And happiest. Let's dance it all again 
When we return. Farewell. 



MONICA, to Heloise 

Farewell. 



Exit, 



Exit. 



HELOISE, to them 

Farewell. 

She turns from the departing girls, her cheeks glowing and 
her whole body filled with the ecstasy of the dance. 

Oh, my girlhood, was I glad again? 

She takes a step, bringing her to the sundial. Suddenly 
her eyes light upon it, her face grows radiant, and with a 
superb gesture she rises to her utmost height and 
stretches both hands above her to the sky. 

Noon! And at last no shadow! Infinite noon! 
The over and under vault is all one flame 
To light him now and he shall find his way. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 151 

Fire all above me and beneath me fire, 

Echoing that with which I burn forever. 

The three immensities are all one path, 

He could not lose the way nor dark defeat him. 

Surely the torch I am would be a beacon 

Over the world to him if darkness fell. 

O sky, be tender to him, earth be safe. 

O visible nature and invisible, 

Be my two arms for him while these are empty! 

Earth be my breast; sky be my heart to him. 

And men and women, be — to — him 

Enter through the gate behind her Malart. She falters and 
looks down upon the dial. Malarfs shadow is upon it. 

Again? 
Here is the shadow back: 

She stares at the dial, 

A raven's wing 

What will the croaking bode this time? 

She slowly turns ^ sees him, and speaks in a dull voice. 

What's wrong? 

Then starting up wildly to him. 

Where is he? You have news of him? He's well? 
Never breathe again till you have told me. 

MALART 

Yes. 

HELOISE 

Where? 



152 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

MALART 

In Paris. 

HELOISE 

Safe? 

MALART 

Safe. 

HELOISE 

He sent you? 

MALART 

I come from him. 

HELOISE 

Then you bear news from him. 

Why does he stay? What held him? Sound your 

note. 

What's wrong? Have I displeased him? What's 

the matter? 

He stands silently looking at her. 

I find you here — always I seem to find you. 
There is something Godlike in such omnipresence. 

MALART 

Blasphemer. 

HELOISE 

Oh, the name answers me not! 
What does he wish of me? 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 153 



f" 



I bring his wishes. 



MALART 

There's the wise question; 



HELOISE 

Then you're welcomer 
Than you have ever been to me before. 
Tell me his wish. 

MALART 

YouVe granted half already 
In coming here, compliant to his wish. 
Only continue. 

HELOISE 

How much longer? 

MALART, fixedly 

Always. 

HELOISE, starting and then looking at him with an effort 
to smile 
You'll never be a jester, so desist; 
You toll a passing bell and they're not worn 
On motley. 

MALART 

No, I ring another bell 
To wed you now forever safe to heaven. 

HELOISE 

At last your threatening madness overtakes you; 
But why should all your ravings be of me? 



154 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

MALART 

No madness but his will arisen at last 
Welded and knitted with the will of God. 

HELOISE 

There is a name that I have heard before, 
Ringing like lost hope from your iron lips 
And always clanged a doom; but now at last, 
In your mad aspiration toward Despair 
You swing too far — the sound grows meaningless. 

MALART 

If that's no warning then I'll take the trumpet 
And blare you up from the world's grave to life. 

Listen. 

He produces a letter and reads. 

Heloise — hoard up your remaining respite from pain. 
Rescue it from the horrible clutches of this festering world. 
Conceal it. Evil surrounds all. Fly from it. Enter the 
safe and hiding shadow of the Church. Take the veil. 
Farewell. Forget the past. 

HELOISE, in a monotone 
Who wrote it? 

MALART, meaningly 
Was it I? 

HELOISE 

Letters of fire 
Would not make me beheve — 



ACT iiij ABELARD AND HELOISE 155 

MALART, continuing to read 

Remember Abelard. 
HELOISE 

The signature! 

She dashes toward him and snatches the letter. Her gaze 
jails on the unmistakable signature. She mutters to her- 
self , staring at the paper. 

Something's confused — only a little ink — 

I'll pray it clean again — well, never mind 

She suddenly taps her jorehead with her hand. 

What's this, what's this? Your madness seems 

contagious. 

She turns. 

O God, I'll go and think! I'll have to think. 
There's a way out. I'll think it clear for him. 

She totters through the doorway into the abbey. Malart 
looks after her with satisfaction and then begins strolling 
about the garden. As he nears the gate which he has 
left open^ Abelard enters wildly. He is pale, haggard, 
and distraught almost to madness. He wears the gown 
of a monk. 

MALART, staggering back with infinite amazement 
You!— Followed! 

ABELARD 

As the rain from hideous airs 
For rest in the wide sea, so I to her. 



156 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

MALART, slowly 

To her? 

ABELARD 

Is she not here? 

MALART, wonderingly 

She? Now? 



ABELARD 

Now. 

MALART 



Thou madman! 



ABELARD 

Never thwart me. She shall soothe me. 

MALART 

Despair has made you drunken. 

ABELARD 

So? Bay on. 

Turning from him wildly. 

The whole world is a hound to harry me, 

The very air's a fang, and all men's eyes 

Tear at me as I hurry by their eyes. 

Gall is my food. Ashes are in my mouth. 

I drink the iron tears of all Despair 

And am all poisoned. 

He looks toward the abbey. 

But the antidote — 
Is cool within her hands. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 157 

MALART, confronting him 

Priest, by thy vows 
Go back! 

ABELARD 

Never ! 

MALART 

Thou art ordained of God. 
Thou wearest God's cloak upon thee. Sin no fur- 
ther. 

ABELARD 

I swore those saU and acid oaths in vain, 
No medicine they. 

MALART 

You have denied your God. 
Can your mad, selfish sin thus deny Nature? 

ABELARD 

Nature nor God has given my spirit balm. 
But with her fingers she shall twine me back 

He continues to look at the abbey. 

To life, and with her voice she can recall me. 

MALART 

Fool, even now she broods upon the letter. 

ABELARD 

Her eyes will battle past those furious words 
And win to me and draw to me and save me. 



158 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

MALART, ajter a pause 
When you were made a priest but three days gone 
I told you to forget — 

He looks meaningly at Abelard. 
but now — remember. 



ABELARD, desperately 
I'll bide no longer. 

Heloise ! 



Calling. 



MALART, trying to prevent Abelard 
God's wrath! 

ABELARD, throwing off his monk^s gown 
Off heavy snare! I am no priest to her. 

He conceals the gown behind a bench. Enter Heloise. 
Abelard rushes to meet her and she to meet him, but before 
they can reach each other Malart passes inflexibly be- 
tween with his face to Abelard and looking at him. 
Abelard hesitates ^ halts ^ and then almost imperceptibly 
shrinks back. Malart then stands rigidly at one side 
looking at him. Heloise impulsively takes another step 
toward Abelard^ but seeing him shrink, she stands still. 

HELOISE 

All's well now, home is here — 

She stretches out her arms. 
in these poor arms, 
Aching for being too long tenantless. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 159 

Abelard continues to stand motionless and silent. She then 
looks from him to Malart. 

Ah, no — you cannot; we will wait. 

She gazes at Malart until he begins to retreat slowly and 
finally makes his exit through the gate, still looking steadily 
at Abelard. She then turns back to Abelard. 

And now — 

She starts again toward him but stops. He continues to 
gaze at her without moving. 

Nothing's between us. 

She again stretches out her arms. He does not move. 
She looks at him jearjully and then suddenly brightens. 

Oh, forgive — I see — 
Yes, it is best to let our eyes drink first 
Lest like parched travellers rushing to the well 
We drown. Oh, I'll be silent. 

ABELARD, still looking at her from his place 

Speak, speak! 

HELOISE 

Ah, thank you. Now I see — and it is better 
That one should hold the cup, the other sip 
And so each guard the other's too great joy. 
What shall I talk of? Will you let me choose? " 
There's the low altar where my baby knees 
Grew wearier than they were worshipful. 



i6o ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ni 

A cherub and a seraph once lurked there. 
I do not see them now — they're shyer now. 
I used to tiptoe on the dial there; 
And watch the birds all cHmbing the steep air; 
They seemed to struggle upward on a quest. 
Ah, wingless though I am, yet I have found 
More than they dared ; and of the dial itself 
I used to watch the others come and read it, 
And thought that to those happy souls it always 
Told the sky's meaning. Now I look at you 

She smiles at him. 
And all's made plain. 

ABELARD 

Oh, poison, poison. 

HELOISE, wildly 

Abelard ! 

She starts to him. 

ABELARD 

No, no, speak on. Once more I'll try this phantom. 

HELOISE, retreating 
Yes, yes, I must not pause; I see, I know 
I must be patient — I'll speak on and on. 
Oh, let me batter at this wintry wall. 
I'll melt a way to you with my two lips. 
Flame against snow shall be my hands for you. 
If snow should lie between us 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE i6i 

ABELARD 

Hell's broth! 
HELOISE, madly 

Abelard ! 

ABELARD 

All's lost! 

HELOISE 

Are you not here? Then all is saved. 

ABELARD 

Lost, lost, you cannot save myself from me. 

HELOISE 

Your face is glistening pale with some deep sickness. 
Something has happened terrible to your brow. 
The dying summer has turned and bitten you 
With fever. 
She takes a hesitating step toward him. He retreats. 
Ah, but let me cool your brow. 

ABELARD 

Do I still seem then only to be sick 

Who have been stung into no quiet death? 

Well, then I must be only sick, a sickness 

Born of no fever. 

To himself. 
Fever cannot Hve 

In the December runnels of these veins. 

HELOISE 

Oh, I can give you balm. 



i62 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act m 

ABELARD 

Then tell me quickly. 
Here stands my spirit, heal it back to life. 

HELOISE, throwing wide her arms 

Home to these arms, here is the life, the healing. 

She waits. He only looks at her. She looks wonderingly 
away and sees a figure at a shrine in the cloister. 

Ah, yes, you dread the staring image there. 
Sad witness, I will shut the canopy. 

She lowers a curtain before the shrine. 
ABELARD 

Oh, can you shut the leaves upon the trees, 

The lidless bubbles on the fountain there, 

The opposing stars that testify against me. 

The winds that yell upon me out of the north. 

Or the south winds that whisper and plot around me? 

That cold unwinking dial that portions off 

The hateful, snakehke periods of time 

In slow and venomous lengths, coil after coil 

Watches me — watches me. Heal my vision first; 

Give me to look again on the same world. 

Or make another. 

HELOISE, yearningly 

Do we need another? 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 163 

ABELARD 

O pitiful physician, is this all? 

Drug me at least with words and we will try 

How many deaths behind lies my soul's health. 

HELOISE 

These are the dusty windows of the mind : 
Never look out of them, or else cleanse them. See 
The tide of tree-tops ebbs and flows above us; 
Let it pour down its beauty, drink it all. 

ABELARD 

Gray, twisted limbs against the weary sky 
Fretted to shivering leaves on the cold sky. 

HELOISE 

Oh, but the fountain never will look strange. 
Take all its gladness, it will still have more. 

ABELARD 

What deadly symbols do you show me. Look, 
See how the tortured water in the air 
Tries for the sun, part to be blown away. 
Part to fall back benumbed, all to be shattered. 
And all its aspiration come to naught. 

HELOISE 

O Love, bring back your eyes, think on us two. 
Think how the morning and the evening are. 
How they are lovely when we look together. 
Think how the dawn has found us glad of Love, 
Think how the noon has looked upon us glad, 



i64 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi 

How the night's pulse has grown to be one bird, 
Dripping its music on our double souls, 
Melting them to one song. Why the whole earth 
Is like a banquet spread before our love, 
And I shall wait upon you, you shall see. 
Your bread shall be my tender services; 
I'll win the golden apples of the west 
Out of my mighty willingness for you, 
Each dawn shall be a silver cup for you ; 
Oh, let me hold it, I am strong enough. 

ABELARD 

So, there's no help. Empty and waste and void. 
You only offer me this piteous table. 
Do you not see what mocking feast is Life? 
Wherein one finds the goblets like as sieves, 
Bitter, black wine. And floating motes for food; 
How one sits with the sneering Hfe around him 
Only to pass unquenched with a groan? 
How he who deeply supped for living — dies? 
And he who hoped for death in his cup — lives? 

He moves away. 
And all are troubled with the last year's flies? 

HELOISE 

These wild distortions are from too much waking. 
The eyes will often so revenge themselves. 
Come, sleep, and let deep peace flow over you. 

She stretches out her hand piteously. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 165 

ABELARD, starting 
Peace! So you have named it! Peace! Peace! 
And silence. There's the cordial. Shelter, shelter. 
Fly from this hurtling world, get behind walls! 
You cannot dodge Life's missiles. Turn away, 
Go from the field, I cannot see you crushed. 

HELOISE 

Your words are strange. I will not understand them. 

ABELARD 

Grief is not plainer than my meaning was, 
Penned in the letter. 

HELOISE, slowly 

The letter, Abelard? 

ABELARD, jrom this time on he grows gradtmlly calmer 
and colder 
The letter. 

HELOISE, starting desperately 
No, I will not understand 



Yes, yes, I can — but oh, I have forgotten. 
And you — oh, I can teach you to forget. 
I know the impulse of its sudden writing; 
How it was false. Remember only truth. 
Truth is my love. 

ABELARD, unyieldingly 

Only to shield and save you 
I recommend this white and quiet path. 



i66 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi 



HELOISE 



You are distraught. The heated arch of noon 
Has bent its fiery fillet on your brow 
Searing your brain to utter these wild words. 

ABELARD 

Madness is what is past; this present Hght 
Is the clear face of reason reappearing. 

HELOISE 

Do not believe ! It's reason's fearful mask. 
O Love, what shall I do to tear it off? 

ABELARD 

Do nothing for my sake but for your own. 
Refledge the innocent prayers you once sent up 
In this still place, and from Confession's censer 
The muttering incense will arise around you. 
And always in its mist you will be safe. 

HELOISE 

To you alone I'll pray, to you confess. 

ABELARD 

Hell would be fitter than I am to hear. 

HELOISE 

At least point out the barren, narrow paths 
That make the dreadful cell attainable; 



Acxm] ABELARD AND HELOISE 167 

If Safety is the thorn where I must hang, 
I'll name the things I must be coward to, 
And you shall charge and teach me to renounce. 

She goes nearer him. 

Shall I, remembering the face of Spring, 

Lash me with icy midnights to my prayers? 

What should I pray for then? Oh, teach me what? 

Shall I, remembering that beyond the wall 

You dwell — beyond my sight, my touch, my help. 

Eat out the past with acid litanies, 

And purge me of the very thought of you? 

ABELARD 

Forget, forget. 

HELOISE 

How long? And afterward — 
Shall I who am with you in this garden here — 

She stretches out her arms to him. 

Afterward, seeing these flowers who have seen you. 
Say to this memory. 

Touching a flower. 

"I renounce you now, 
This rose, this poppy memory, I renounce you"? 

ABELARD 

You need not then renounce me in your thoughts. 



i68 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

HELOISE 

Must I, who in some things am hke a child, 
Watching and being glad through all the year 
To see the rolling seasons of dehght, 
Creep to sad duties, as to move a bead, 
To fix a candle, or to mumble prayers 
Always, whose only duty is to you? 

ABELARD 

Let your first prayer be not to think again. 

HELOISE 

Shall I deny our earth, our sky — and us? 

ABELARD 

Only retaliate for that earth and sky 
Have cast us off and left us without home. 

HELOISE 

Must earth be only treading for my feet 
While I go seek my ever-hiding soul, 
Only the sad, elusive and the far — 
And you, of all, unendingly away? 
Must I look upward to the sky and find 
Only the sky, and never know again 
If you are under it and what your need is? 

ABELARD 

My deepest need is only deepest peace. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 169 

HELOISE 

But oh, you cannot tell, you swiftly change. 
Oh, I could aid you best outside in the world ; 
I could be serviceable in secret there, 
More than behind these dead, preventing walls. 
They'd be the very fort of our worst doom 
To hurl me back and back and back forever 
From my glad, secret battle at your side. 

ABELARD 

I shall no longer fight. The battle's lost. 

He moves coldly away. 

HELOISE, jollowing him desperately 
I cannot and you will not make me go. 
I beg you as I love you never ask me. 
This hateful, dead renouncement I renounce. 
Life and our sky! Its glad cup is too full 
To bring to this dead pool. 'Twould overflow 
And drown the unaccustomed sippers of it. 

He still retreats. She follows him more wildly. 

And oh, the little things, my Abelard! 

The httle things, think of them; how they were, 

How, when we found some wondrous thing together, 

Of earth or sky or in some moving book, 

Suddenly how our eyes were, yours in mine. 

And that quick marriage that there then was made. 



I70 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi 

Those are the myriad filaments that bind us, 
Silken, but more than steel. We cannot break them. 

She touches his sleeve. 

And when sad April, freighted with the rain. 
Poured from her chill urn sickness over you. 
How you would have no other one to nurse you? 
Remember? Abelard. 

ABELARD 

I'll urge no further. 
For it was only that you might escape 
The whirHng unavoidable disaster 
Spilled out upon the world by all the stars 
That made me speak. But if it is your doom 
It is your doom. And stay then in the world. 

HELOISE, with joy dawning in her jace 
Oh, then all's well and I am of your mind ; 
Let us cast off the very universe. 
If this is what you will, but not each other. 
What is the world to us? But not each other. 
Only each other have and help and cling to. 

She runs Mindly to Abelard and is about to embrace him 
when Malart enters through the gateway, 

MALART 

Oh, damnable sight ! 'Twill sear these eyes forever! 

Abelard avoids Heloise. 
I'll speak now, for I've waited all too long. 



ACTm] ABELARD AND HELOISE 171 

ABE LARD, hurriedly to him 
I beg you let it fall more gently on her. 
Come, we will go. 

He draws Malart toward the gate, but Malart shakes ofj and 
starts toward Heloise. 

Oh, never tell her now. 

MALART, looking at them hath 
She has been charmed into these coils too long. 

HELOISE 

What sick, delirious words are these he speaks? 
Come within, now, and rest. Fever's abroad. 
To-morrow, Love, we'll go together — home. 

She stretches out her hand appealingly. 

MALART 

Together! Never while this Hfe is 



ABELARD, with a wild^ threatening gesture commanding 
silence 

Malart! 

HELOISE 

Ah, we are wedded. What's to hinder us? 

MALART, lijting Abelard's m^nk^s gown from behind the 
bench and casting it over Abelard from behind 
His priesthood. 



172 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii 

HELOISE, wildly 
Abelard ! 

ABELARD, finally recovering his calmness and drawing the 
cloak about him 

Three days ago 
I entered on my rest. 

To Malart. 
Now we will go. 

HELOISE, staring desperately at him 
You have not taken all your final vows? 

ABELARD 

All, and forever, never to abjure 

While this life is the wheel it is to wrack me. 

HELOISE, in a steady^ dull voice 

And this is why you suffered; that you passed 
Out of the world, and afterward remembered, 
Remembered and returned to me again. 

She pauses. 
I could take pleasure even from this thing 
But that you suffered. So there's nothing saved. 

ABELARD 

Silence is never lost, nor timeless peace. 
The courts of heaven are all white and still. 



ACT III] ABELARD AND HELOISE 173 

Peace is best, for that I'll set my sail. 

A little longer your unquiet soul 

Will swim through its rough dreams, until at last 

It beaches on the dawn and finds its path; 

Meet me where peace is. 

MALART 

Come, the gate will close. 

Abelard and Malart go to the gateway and pass through it. 
The gate clangs shut after them. Heloise has been stand- 
ing stonily looking ajter Abelard with staring^ unseeing 
eyes, hut as the gate shuts she rushes forward and heats 
frantically at it. 

HELOISE, crying out 

The gate is shut and I'll not have it so. 
Oh, I can open gates. 

Calling wildly. 

Remember once 
How in the garden there the gate was shut? 
I opened it! Remember! Abelard! 

The gate swings slowly open^ showing no one. Heloise 
stands staring into the emptiness hut making no effort to 
go through the gateway. There is a pause of absolute 
silence^ then a burst of organ music is heard within the 
abbey. Gabriella appears standing in the abbey doorway 
watching Heloise. The music grows louder. Enter a 
procession oj nuns singing. They cross the garden and 



174 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act m 

exeunt. Heloise turns and watches them as they go. 
She then sees Gabriella and goes slowly to her. 

Mother, now put the veil upon my head. 

GABRIELLA 

Come, sleep is safe. I'll hold and lull you. Sleep. 

HELOISE 

Oh, put the veil upon me. Hide this world. 
He's gone from it, I'll follow him away. 

She looks desperately about. 

Yet I remember — oh, but never doubt — 
Yet there was once a world — there is a world. 
At least we'll be together in one world, 
A smaller — we'll be nearer — cover me. 

Gabriella leads her pityingly toward the abbey door^ em- 
bracing her. Exeunt both. 



Curtain. 



ACT IV 

Twenty years later. A road near Chdlons. The brow of 
a hill overlooking a valley. On the lejt the road enters a 
wood into which there are also several paths. Back, cen- 
tre, and at the very edge oj the hill is a wayside shrine oj 
white, consisting oj two pillars forming a pergola 
and between them is a figure oj the Virgin. Into the 
base oj the shrine a broad ledge is built jor the wor- 
shippers. Three low steps lead to it. The shrine 
commands a view oj the west and the time is late ajter- 
noon oj a summer day. 

Enter the King, a lad oj eight, on horseback. At his side 
walk a train oj attendants, soldiers, and nobles. 

THE KING, halting 
Here is a place where one should pause and pray. 

A COURTIER 

A kingly thought. 

THE KING 

Where is my holy nurse? 

SECOND COURTIER 

Your majesty is much too gracious to her. 

THE KING 

Why not? She knows the stories. Where is she? 

175 



176 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

FIRST COURTIER 

She paused awhile. 

THE KING 

Go fetch her. 

SECOND COURTIER, looking off 

She comes now. 

Enter Heloise in the robe of an abbess. She goes lovingly 
to the King, 

THE KING 

Dearest, here's a pretty place to see. 

HELOISE 

Yes, my child. 

THE KING 

It's almost Hke the picture 
In our old fairy-book — except the fairies. 

HELOISE 

Yes, dear. 

THE KING, drawing himself up proudly on his horse 
I could be brave here. 

The courtiers have been regarding Heloise with envimis 
and impatient looksj whispering among themselves. 

A COURTIER, stepping forward 

Royal sir. 
You do not need your bravery on this earth, 
For we, your courtiers, will be brave for you. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 177 

THE KING 

No, I must have more courage than you all. 
She told me so. Dear, didn't you? 

Taking Heloise's hand. 

SECOND COURTIER, looking at Heloise 

That's false teaching. 

To the King. 
For it destroys your faith in loyalty. 

THE KING 

I'd trust her first. She's truer than the others. 

A SOLDIER, stepping forward 
Think not of women. Be a mighty king 
And lead God's army to His sepulchre. 
Burn, mangle, kill the fiendish infidel. 
Wrest the true cross from their unholy grip 
And bring it to bless France. 

THE KING 

Yes, that I'll do. 

HELOISE 

Stay, dear, at home; France is your cross to bear. 

Look on those fields — 

Pointing to the valley. 

Do they seem fair? 

THE KING, looking 

Yes, fair. 



178 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

HELOISE 

Little children are unhappy there. 

THE KING, wonderingly 
What makes them so? 

HELOISE 

They starve. 

THE KING, sternly 

I'll not have that. 
Let them be given sweets. 

A COURTIER 

Your majesty, 
They have enough ; the land groans with the harvest. 
Much food is in the tillage of the poor 

HELOISE 

But not for them. 

To the King, 

Remember those we passed, 
The wailing, clutching ones who cried upon you. 

THE KING 

I'll make them glad again. I'm a good king. 

Enter from the valley three monks. They approach the 
king, making obeisance. 

A MONK 

Hail, Anointed One of God. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 179 

THE KING, to those about him 
Who's he? 

SECOND MONK 

Tidings! A prophet has arisen in your realm, 
A glorious youth, a later John, a trumpet! 
Crying across the world, "Crusade, Crusade!" 
Come to the valley, hear him, and be moved 
To avenge the murdered Christ. 

THE KING, to Heloise 

What does he mean? 

HELOISE 

A preacher speaks below there. 

Pointing to the valley. 

THE KING, joyfully 

Will he shout? 

A COURTIER 

Yes, sire. 

THE KING 

I'll go and hear him then. I love 
To hear men shout. It's better than a drum. 

To Heloise. 

Dear nurse, your face is white and tired. Rest here, 
And wear my purple cloak, it is too heavy. 



i8o ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

He casts his purple mantle about Heloise. The courtiers 
witness it enraged. 

Kiss me, and I'll come back to you. 

She kisses him. 

Lead on. 
Exeunt King and all save Heloise. Enter along the road 
to her, Luce dressed as a nun. 

LUCE 

How — Where's the king? 

HELOISE 

In evil hands, my Luce. 
But he would go. Some voice there in the valley 
Will speak; and he would go. Poor baby heart. 
She looks lovingly toward the valley, then turns hack to Luce. 
What of the famished woman? Did she eat? 

LUCE 

Yes, but her hunger's gnawed her mind, it's gone. 
She glowered only, and snapping, dropped her child. 
No woman, but a wolf. 

HELOISE 

She must be housed. 

LUCE 

They say a hermit's in that wood. 

Pointing to it, 

I sent 

To ask the shelter of his hut for her. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE i8i 

HELOISE 

How this fair land is blotted and stained black 
To whiten bloody things in Palestine. 

LUCE, sadly 

I must not call that thing or cause unholy 
In which my Gervase died. 

HELOISE 

No — there's one soul 
That smiled its way to God all unashamed. 

LUCE, covering her face with her hand 

He was a better man than I had hoped. 

Well there, 

Wiping her eyes. 

Perhaps God's brides must never think 
Of dead men. 

Enter a page from the wood. 

Here's the page I sent to seek 
The hermit. 

To page. 
Did you find him? 

PAGE 

Find him! Yes. 
Would I could lose again the sight of him. 

Shuddering. 



i82 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

His lair's a secret bower in green leaves 
That tap his window with soft, summer touches. 
Its flowers blush for him. I knocked. He rushed 
Forth, beasthke, monstrous— crusted all with wounds. 
Shrieking ''Repent I Repent!" before I'd sinned, 
He would not hear me, only howled, ''Repent! " 
And followed me so bawling. 

A harsh voice is heard in the wood approaching. 

Here he comes. 

Enter the hermit emaciated^ benty running with his hands 
raised above him, 

THE HERMIT 

Fly, fly from the wrath of righteous God! 

He faces Heloise. 

HELOISE 

Malart! 

MALART 

What! Scarlet Babylon has come back again. 
I thought I heaped the ashes over her. 

Looking at her intently. 
Woe, woe, these twenty years have not sufficed. 

HELOISE 

Yes, truly you were kindler of that fire 
That has consumed my life. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 183 

MALART 

Was it not well 
That such an evil as that life should be 
Brought low to dust? 

HELOISE, turning from him 

Is he all madman. Luce? 
Or would some words of mine eat through the shell 
And burn into the man? 

LUCE 

Spend a few on him. 
I'll pray that they may lash him to some hell. 

HELOISE, turning and going near him 
Malart, come forth from this bleak tomb of years. 
Know that the deadly curse you heaped upon us 
Availed not but to make me suffer. I 
Am his, and my thoughts never are of heaven, 
For earth is still his dweUing. 

MALART 

Hopeless Devil, 
Then is my weary labor all to do 
Over until the smoke of your red burning 
Goes up forever and forever? 

LUCE, taking Heloise^s hand 
Come, 
You cannot reach him; all the man is dead, 
Only the curse remains. 



i84 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

HELOISE, moving away 

The curse indeed. 

MALART, jollowing her fiercely 

So I must set you now newly afire, 

And blow your embers to a new-made flame 

To scorch you deeper; know you where he is? 

HELOISE, turning desperately to him 

Oh, if you know, be merciful now at last 
And give me news of him. 

MALART 

News I will give you. 
And without mercy; he is near you now! 

HELOISE 

Near? 

MALART 

And now falls my lash; he is in anguish. 

HELOISE 

Oh, where? 

MALART 

Even that I'll tell and add that fagot more. 
Beyond this wood in St. Marcellus Abbey! 

HELOISE, starting hack on the road 

ru go. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 185 

MALART, going in front oj her 
So now I have you at the stake. 
Marcellus gates are built — locked — barred against 

you, 
Being a woman. So be helpless here 
As he is helpless near you. 

HELOISE 

So you dreamed 

That stone or steel could hold me from him now. 

Then you have failed at last — this destined arrow 

Spreads to a blessing. 

She stands victoriously before him. 

And I thank you. 

To Luce, 

Come. 

To Malart as she goes. 

Will you not watch us meet? 

MALART, shrieking 

Woe of the world, 
I'll find a way to bring you further bitter 
Till you are poisoned all. 

LUCE, drawing Heloise away as they depart 
Come, come away, 
I cannot hear him and be still a nun. 
Go find the abbey. I will seek the woman 
To give her further food, then follow you. 



i86 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

HELOISE, halting perplexedly at the wood into which two 
paths lead. Then she chooses one of them 

It must be by this path. It is the whiter. 

LUCE 

I'll go a little with you and help find it. 

Exeunt Heloise and Luce. 

MALART, looking after Heloise as she goes 
Avaunt Sathanas! Retro! 

He turns with raised and clenched fists. 
Let me only 
Behold her at the last, and be avenged. 

Enter several people hastily along the road from the left and 
exeunt severally across and down the hill. 

Children of Wrath, why breathless to the tomb? 
He lays hold of one of them, a young monk, and detains him. 

THE YOUNG MONK 
Breathlessly, and eagerly looking toward the valley. 
The preacher! 

MALART 

Where? 

THE YOUNG MONK, pointing 

Within the valley there. 
We run to hear him. Haste. I shall be late. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 187 

MALART, still detaining him 

All clamorers are not of God; he may be 
An evil prophet. 

THE YOUNG MONK, radiantly 

No, a glorious one. 
His words are burning doves that nest v^^ithin, 
Calling and drav^ing hope and giving wings 
To dare for all desire. He summons all 
To get Christ's cup and rood from infidels! 

MALART 

How know you? 

THE YOUNG MONK 

I have heard him yesterday. 
None preaches like the mighty Astrolobus 



MALART, starting violently 
Ha! Astrolobus! 

THE YOUNG MONK 

And withal, a youth 
No older than myself. 

MALART, clutching him 

Where rose this preacher? 

THE YOUNG MONK 

At Cluny he was nurtured by the monks. 



i88 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

MALART, releasing him and turning away 
'Tis he! O thou avenging Host, I thank thee! 
Here is my scourge. 

THE YOUNG MONK, going 

Farewell now. 

MALART, going toward him 

Hold and hear: 
Shall one born out of wedlock be God's priest? 

THE YOUNG MONK 

It is forbidden. 

MALART 

Shall he take God's name 
On his unlawful lips? Shall he guide souls 
To heaven, who cannot enter in himself? 

THE YOUNG MONK 

Never! But why detain me with such sorrow? 

MALART 

He whom you rush to hear is such a one. 

THE YOUNG MONK 

Oh, dreadful and impossible! 

MALART, watching him 

You have heard 
The tale of that great leman, Heloise? 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 189 

THE YOUNG MONK 

Yes, heard it, and on many a midnight wept. 

He pauses^ thinking solemnly. 

And yet — she took God's veil. 

MALART, slowly 

Her shame came after. 

THE YOUNG MONK 

O sorrow. 

MALART 

In its earhest hour of life 
The child was rescued from her and was given 
To learn sad penance in dark Cluny's cloisters. 
And there named — Astrolobus! 

THE YOUNG MONK, wonderingly 
It is he! 

MALART 

Woe, woe, blasphemous he, who should be plunged 
In endless silence, penitential tears — 
Walks barefaced on the world and prates of souls. 
Fills his unholy mouth with holy names — 

He suddenly turns upon the young monkj watching the effect 
of his words. 

Duty now calls us to stop up those lips 
By wide revealing of his shame. 



I90 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

THE YOUNG MONK, grave with conviction 

Oh, sad! 

MALART, still watching him 
Before the congregation utterly 
Abase him. 

THE YOUNG MONK, going 

If it must be, I will hasten 
And hear a little first. 

Exity running down the hill, 

MALART, going after him 

Now triumph come, 
Here is the net in which my world is caught. 

Exit. Enter from the woods a young acolyte hurriedly, fol- 
lowed by Peter of Cluny. The abbot is aged and frail 
and goes with great difficulty by the aid of a staff, 

THE ACOLYTE 

Ah, Father Peter, we'll not be in time. 

PETER, hobbling painfully 
I come swiftly. 

THE ACOLYTE, returning to him 
Let me help you. 

PETER 

Off, 
Time will aid me. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 191 

THE ACOLYTE 

But time is so slow. 

PETER 

It's fast enough for what it brings us to. 

VOICES OUTSIDE, on the road behind them 

Hail. 
PETER, turning 
Who's there? 

Enter along the road two papal guards, followed by a Pope's 
messenger. 

ACOLYTE, joyfully 
What, strangers? 

PETER 

Benedicite. 

A GUARD 

Way for the Nuncio of holy Rome. 

PETER 

What, the Pope's messenger at last! 

NUNCIO, halting 

Good brother 

Can you direct us to Marcellus Cloister? 

PETER 

I can, for there I once renounced the world 
At six months' age. Yet even then the world 

He mutters. 
Was old. But I shall not be young again. 



192 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

NUNCIO 

And does one Abelard abide there still? 

PETER 

He seems to; mark I say, he only seems. 

He peers long at the Nuncio, 
Your face is sombre. Ahsit omen, 

NUNCIO 

Yes, 
I come upon a dreadful errand here. 

PETER, sadly 

Oh, never say the holy father judged 
Against him. 

NUNCIO 

I bear news to him of that. 
He has been excommunicated wholly 
And dreadfully cast forth from out the Church. 

PETER, turning toward the wood with an agonized face 

O my brother! thou art brother still. 

Would I might drink this one last cup for thee! 

Turning again to the Nuncio, 

Read me the excommunication now. 

That I may know what thin and watery reasons 

Temper the steel of it. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 193 

NUNCIO 

Then listen. 

He takes from his bosom a great black parchment sealed with 
a red seal. He breaks the seal and unfolds it, 

Reading, 

For 
His treasonable designs against the Rood, 
By planting pagan thoughts among the youthful, 
For vile pollution of the eucharist. 
By eating — without faith — at high communion. 
For blasphemies against the word of God, 
By praising dead and damned philosophers — 
CaUing one Aristotle worthy of heaven 

PETER, turning away 
Enough! I'll not hear more. The end is come. 

NUNCIO, going toward the woody followed by the guards 
Is this the path? 

PETER, starting 

Hold! Stay the horrid blow 
A few poor breaths : he follows slowly here 
To hear one in the valley. He will come 
Presently to this place. Wait here for him. 
Run not to meet him freighted with this curse! 



194 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

NUNCIO 

Why that is kindly, I bear him no malice, 
But am here only God's poor sword-bearer. 
I'll wait his coming. 

He returns and seats himselj. 

Will he die, think you? 

PETER 

Die? Death is not the thought — I cannot tell 

Whether it will revive him into death. 

He is a cloud that has forgot its rain, 

Dry, dry, such as in deserts in a drought 

Come in the air and are and are not seen; 

Nor white nor dark, nor hot nor cold, but sick. 

Sick with a fever of a fever's end. 

And yet give forth no sickness, but are poisoned 

Within themselves, too piteous to be feared, 

Too Hstless to be hoped for, only pity 

Goes up to them. 

NUNCIO 

I think death would be welcome 
To such a man. 

PETER 

If he had but received it 
Long ago. But he has Hngered past it, 
And now it shuns him. For these twenty years 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 195 

He has been fighting in a heavy fight, 

Without Life's armor on. Bernard has conquered. 

A sound without in the wood. He turns and points. 

Lo, he approaches even now his doom, 

His last, dread fate. See there, can you not stay 

The course? 

NUNCIO 

God's stony will be done as ever; 
I cannot change it, though I gladly would. 

Enter from the wood Abelardj weak and stricken as by illness. 
He walks with his head bowed and is supported by two 
monks. 

A MONK, to his jellow 
Rest here, he can no further go. 

The two monks support Abelard to the ledge of the shrine^ 
where he sinks slowly down with his eyes closed. Peter 
goes to him and speaks aside to him. 

SECOND MONK, turning to Peter and the Nuncio 

Good brothers, 
You pause here? 

PETER 

We, like you, would rest, and here 
We met with strangers. 



196 ■ ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

ABELARD 

Many strangers come, 
But none go strangers. 

FIRST MONK 

He speaks of this world. 

PETER 

Abelard, I pray you, fix your weary eyes 
Not upon this poor world but on the other. 

ABELARD 

Once I was cursed with bhndness, now my woe 
Is too clear vision. 

PETER 

Surely both of these 
Cannot be sorrows, but if one must be, 
The other is a joy. 

ABELARD 

The world's still here, 
Still to be seen — if seen, then shuddered at. 
If fallen upon in darkness, 'tis a marsh 
That overwhelms at last our glowworm fires. 

PETER 

All is not treacherous lowland on this earth. 
The heights are still above. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 197 

ABELARD 

And I have seen them 
A naked warning, never struggle up: 
They're made to fall from. 

PETER 

Is there then no hope 
That you may yet again mount up that path 
And win the sky at last? 

ABELARD 

I lie here torn 
Low at the stony base upon the plain, 
Waiting one thing alone, a word from Rome 
For confirmation that I did not fall 
In vain. 

PETER, after a pause pointing to the west 

See brother, even now the sun 
After its day-long climbing toward desire 
Sinks ruinous to its sombre, silent doom, 
And out of all the void there is no voice 
To say "Well done," then how much less can you 
Hope to receive such blessed benison? 

ABELARD 

Yet it must come, there must be that one Hght, 
Else I'll not know how large the darkness is. 



\ 

198 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

PETER 

There are abysses void of any star. 

ABELARD 

But there are stars beyond, useless, dry, cold. 
Yet they will light my grave and show to others 
Why it was dug, or show to me at least 
How deep it is. 

PETER, looking apprehensively from time to time at the 

Nuncio^ whOf however, remains standing motionless 

gazing at Ahelard and holding the excommunication he- 
hind him 

We all must have our graves. 

ABELARD 

I needed none, for I am my own tomb, 

And every day digs uselessly for me. 

Already buried, none shall find me out 

Save at the end. Day after day till then 

Passes above me futile to assault 

As it is feeble to bring blessing on me. 

None can uncover me save that last hour 

Which Rome shall send me that I may have peace. 

NUNCIO, taking a jew steps toward the hill and then turning 
hack to Ahelard 

Brother, the sun is down. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 199 

ABELARD 

That's one day more. 
I'll look upon now where it was. 
There will a glory dwell about it now, 
Since it is useless to make warm the world. 

He moves as though to rise; the two monks lift him and 
support him to the brow of the hill where he stands gazing 
at the sky. 

PETER, indicating the excommunication which hangs in 
the inert hand of the Nuncio who gazes after Ahelard 

You did not give it. 

NUNCIO, starting 

No, nor ever shall. 

While this heart's human pity wields the act 

I could not; but 

Turning to Peter. 

A friend Uke you should do it. 

PETER 

Never. Destroy it. 

NUNCIO 

ft is worth my life. 
Rome still must be obeyed. It must be given. 

PETER 

Who then shall do it? 



200 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

NUNCIO 

One without a pulse. 

ACOLYTE 

I have it! 

PETER 

Who? 

ACOLYTE 

The hermit. 

PETER 

Who is he? 

ACOLYTE 

He dwells near by, a lean and pious man, 

So burning with his duty unto God 

That it has charred all nature's blood in him. 

NUNCIO 

He must be then the one we passed below 
Rushing with upraised hands. 

ACOLYTE 

Gray? 

NUNCIO 

Yes, and fierce. 

ACOLYTE 

'Tis he. 

NUNCIO 

Let us go down and give it to him. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 201 

PETER 

Abelard is too weak to journey farther. 
The hermit shall return and find him here 
And so deliver it. I'll follow him. 

ACOLYTE 

Hush now — he turns, they bring him back to us. 

The two monks support Abelard back to the ledge of the shrine, 
where he sinks hi a reclining posture as though fainting. 
One of the monks puts the cowl over Abelard'' s face. 

PETER, to the two monks 

We go upon an errand to the valley. 

Bide here with him — be tender — so farewell. 

Exeunt down the hill Peter, the A colyte, the Nuncio and his 
guards. 

FIRST MONK 

Now we'll not hear the preacher. 

SECOND MONK 

And I've dreamed 
This fortnight that he was St. John, and I 
Should look upon him. 



For being eager. 



FIRST MONK 

We are punished thus 



202 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

SECOND MONK 

I am punished always 
For any longing; it is God's good way. 

Enter slowly from the wood Heloise. 

FIRST MONK 

Who's this? A Sister! She's the one shall stay. 

SECOND MONK 

Oh, 'tis a blessing sent. 

FIRST MONK, pointing to the cowled figure of Ahelard 

Good Sister, see 
An ailing brother fallen on the way. 
Come, minister to him while we make haste 
Unto the congregation there below. 

SECOND MONK 

At last I'll hear. 

Going. 

FIRST MONK 

Hasten, he may be ended. 

Exeunt the two monks. Heloise goes to the reclining figure 
with impulsive pity. She lifts the cowl. His jace is 
disclosed. She starts back and Ahelard half rises. 

HELOISE, wildly 
Abelard ! 

ABELARD, faintly 

Heloise ! 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 203 

HELOISE 

O my immortal love! 

ABELARD, passing his hand be/ore his eyes 

Have not the years prevailed against this dream, 
That it must touch again the air about me? 

HELOISE 

No dream is here, but the awakening. 

ABELARD, weakly looking at her 

I see 

He pauses with sinking head. 

HELOISE, touching him pityingly 
You shudder as from bhghting cold. 

ABELARD 

I am enshrouded in a frozen world 

That makes my marrow ice 

He pauses. 

And who shall melt it? 

HELOISE 

Touch but this hand. It seems as it could pour 
Even too much fire upon you. 

ABELARD 

But to warm me, 
Never. 



204 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

HELOISE 

You pale — an illness is upon you. 

ABELARD 

My illness is not ruled by mortal change; 
I am Pain's self and live beyond despair. 

HELOISE 

Can you take nothing of healing from my hands, 
My Source! from whom my springs of Hfe arose 
Brimming their full banks with a mighty flood 
That has been lowered never since it rose 
Deep from your heart? 

ABELARD 

My life these many years 
Has languished dry like sand and I have walked 
Within a world robbed of its rain and dew, 
Pent in myself as underneath a roof 
That kept off heaven and let in the world. 

HELOISE 

There is an ebb to sorrow oftentimes. 

When tears have drowned the topmost flower of grief. 



ABELARD 

If I had any longer any tears, 
You too would wash away. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 205 

HELOISE 

Can you not weep? 

ABELARD 

I never wept except as poets do, 

Whose tears are only tears while they are heard. 

HELOISE 

You name the poet's mind without the heart; 
You never drew me by the mind alone. 

ABELARD, continuing as though unhearing 
That conscious face I wore before the world 
Has turned upon itself to rend and tear me, 
And is a Gorgon that has struck me dumb. 
Expression is a sweet I've lost the taste of, 
And it is flatter now than silence is. 
I am a harp unstrung — nothing is emptier. 

HELOISE 

Ah, you forget — you never were of old 
Moved to emotion by a conscious mood. 
But ever lived your hours too blindly eager. 

ABELARD 

My soul was prism-like and seized upon 

All hues of life out of clear-seeming air. 

Only to pass them through me into color. 

None — none were held, and now the glass is dulled. 

Lo, there is no man there that seemed to hold it. 



2o6 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

HELOISE 

I am one color that remains to you. 

ABELARD 

The world is parched and a desert thing 
When I, the fountain that would make it green, 
Cannot reflect its greenness in myself. 

HELOISE, looking at him long 

Now if you ever doubted, oh, beheve 

That in the end all will be well with us; 

That merciless lance of this, your new-found vision. 

Shall be a Hght that shall illume the mists 

That damped and ailed this mortal life of yours, 

Making it fretful, sick, and feverous. 

ABELARD 

The years have put a candle in my hand 

Too late. Midnight has come. The void surrounds 

me. 
Black, limitless; I cannot see the way. 
My light is guttering now. 

HELOISE 

Believe, believe! 
Cling to that glory that enfolded us 
Upon the instant of our earUest kiss. 
For it is symbol of a saving thing; 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 207 

Though we groped upward from a blind abyss 
Into the world, did we not find each other? 
And at that meeting something was as flame 
That shall not fade or fail to tell our eyes 
The radiant promise of this world to us, 
Who burn across it to abide beyond. 

ABELARD 

I only lived by day, the night's uncharted. 

HELOISE, pointing to the west. It is now after sunset 
See how that sunken glory in the air. 
Filling the west with the old altar fire, 
Beacons its promise of dawn following. 
And how the twilight star's imperial tear 
Sheds its most white atonement on the world 
For what the day has lost and sinned against. 

ABELARD 

Lost, sinned against — the words are chosen well. 

He slowly looks up at her. 
What do you wish of me? 

HELOISE, Jtioving as though she had been smitten; sJie 
hesitates and then speaks 

Oh, I am young 

She pauses an instaiit. 
I am not old. Can I not, with my strength 
Raise you from this affliction of blank pain? 



2o8 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

ABELARD 

I have a strength too great. It lasts too long. 

He pauses. 
One thing I linger for — to see the end. 

For all my once-wild faith, my dreams, my hopes 

Have shrunk and narrowed to this lean belief, 

That in the end I shall be justified. 

HELOISE 

Are you not justified that we shall conquer? 

ABELARD, looking at her 

Sister, I speak of Europe, not of us, 
The mind of the world, that I, having once died. 
Lived on to save. Oh, I have suffered earth 
That I might heal the sickness of itself. 
For Reason's sake I have been spurned and stoned 
From every cloister in this faith-blind land. 
I totter on the wall, but here I conquer. 
He looks up with rising energy and a show of the old fire. 
I have appealed to Rome 

HELOISE, starting 

To Rome, my Soul? 

ABELARD 

There my salvation and all Europe's is. 

The Pope shall save me and with me the world. 

Here I await his salvos for my life. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 209 

HELOISE, swiftly 
But if his mandate is against the stars? 

ABELARD 

It cannot be — my vindication's sure. 

HELOISE, imploringly 

Love, keep back some faith from this adventure; 
Hazard not all in the old bhnder way. 

No ship from Rome bears argosies of Reason, 
Keep back a Httle faith to Hve upon 
If this frail vessel sink beneath the sea. 

ABELARD 

1 am a fruit tree blasted, and I chng 
Even to autumn by a single leaf. 

I have long been kin to it, and with cold fingers 

It shall erase me from this troubled field. 

Only let not my agony be in vain; 

Only to see the heritage I die for 

Lives and is safe. 

His head sinks. 
HELOISE, piteously 

I pray you, Love, withhold 

Your bhnd rehance on so wraithlike hopes. 

She pauses^ then leans toward him^ speaking quickly. 

Fix all your gaze upon that other hope 

Born of our love and clothed on with its fire 

Of prayer and tears. 



2IO ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

ABELARD, looking at her wonderingly 
You speak some mystery. 

HELOISE 

Of whom I told in letters long ago. 

ABELARD 

Letters I had, but naught of hope in them. 

HELOISE, slowly 
You heard not of him from me ever? 

ABELARD, gazing at her 

Him? 

HELOISE, turning 
Not even to have shared this thing together. 

ABELARD, Still following her with his eyes 
Together ? 

HELOISE, turning hack to him 

Afterward — oh, afterward 



She pauses. 
Our love put on mortality — a son! 

She sinks down beside him^ covering her face with her hands. 
ABELARD 

A son — to me? 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 211 

HELOISE 

At veiled Argenteuil 
My joy and sorrow knew its height and depth. 

ABELARD, staggering to his jeet 
He lives? 

HELOISE 

They took him in his earliest hours, 
But I in secret watch him in the world. 
The Church possesses him — he grows in strength. 
He knows not of us nor suspects his birth. 

ABELARD, reeling and raising his hands triumphantly to 
the sky 
At last! O thou uneven thing in the air 
Made like a balance. Justice, I have conquered 
And all the leaden evil is outweighed. 

I'll go 

He totters and sinks down upon the ledge. 

Ha — weakness — on an hour Hke this? 
Raise me and lead me to him from this darkness. 
Into his hands the battle shall be given: 
His heritage, the star that I have clutched at. 
Shall be laid on him as a white commission. 
And for his battle-cry and holy banner 
For shield, for fortress, he shall have the word 
Of commendation I await from Rome! 
For it is true he cannot fight without 
That sure defence. 



212 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

HELOISE 

O my World, hold and stay 
From plunging on this unknown orbit now. 

ABELARD 

The fires he sheds shall warm my frozen way. 

HELOISE 

I know not where he is. We could not find him. 
His road is chosen. We must not fetter him. 

Frojn the road that leads down into the valley a sound has 
been heard growing as of many people approaching. Wild 
cries are heard. Abelard and Heloise stand listening. 
The tumult increases. Enter a throng of people from the 
valley^ yelling taunts and pointing derisively hack along 
the road. Some of them throw sticks and stones in that 
direction. They cross the stage and exeunt noisily. En- 
ter from the valley Astrolohus^ the object of their insults. 
He staggers wildly along the road^ covered with dust and 
bruises. Heloise has stood stricken with apprehension 
since the noise began. She now starts on beholding him. 
He sees her, stops and addresses her fiercely. Abelard 
is still seated on the ledge back of Heloise^ his eyes fixed 
on Astrolobus. It is twilight. 

ASTROLOBUS 

Staring at Heloise. 
Ah, you — you — I have often seen your face, 
But now I know you, what you are to me. 
Well shameless cause, look on your shamed effect, 
For I am outcast, bloody, spit upon. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 213 

I know your story out of common ballads. 
Why? Why? Say in what way had I unborn 
Ever done injury to you or wronged you 
That you should body forth my soul in shame? 

Enter Malart also from the valley road. He goes with 
triumphant malice to Abelard and gives him the excom- 
munication. Abelard stares at it, clutches at his breast 
and sinks prostrate on the ledge behind Heloise, who has 
not even noted the entrance of Malart^ but stands with her 
eyes -fixed on Astrolobus, who continues. Exit Malart. 

Unjust, unjust. My earthly life is gone, 
And holy writ has said that such as I 
Cannot inherit ever the kingdom of heaven. 
Oh, I have been ambitious, I loved life; 
I would have outshone morning. I breathed rain- 
bows. 
I have exhorted men to win the cross. 
And now they will and I'll not be the reason. 
I must go scorned, gnashing to the dark. 
You planted foul seeds darkly long ago 
And I'm the fruitage. Well, then, I'll taste bitter: 
May that same darkness be your dwelling always. 
May unappeasable despair forever 
Gnaw you. Burn. Freeze. Never forget my words. 
May they make hell a respite from your torment. 

Starting to go. 
Lost, lost! Where's justice? Who will pity me? 

Exit along the road. 



214 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv 

HELOISE, starting wildly after him 
Ah, no, no — Astrolobus! 

He does not return. She turns slowly and sees Abelard 
prone upon the ledge, 

Abelard ! 

She goes swijtly to him^ bending over him. 

This is not all. There's no surrender now. 
We must not lose him. He at least shall be 
Won from the field if we still fight for him. 

She pauses J staring at him, then sees the excommunication. 
She picks it up, opens it and reads. 

What's this? Your freedom — I will share it with 

you 

Look up! Only believe — here's hope — Look! 

Waken ! 

She bends over him, looks at his face, takes his hand and puts 
her head to his breast, listening. She rises, clutching her 
brows and looking upward. 

Can this be all? 

She pauses, then looks again at Abelard. 

No, no. It is the doubt, 
The doubt that numbs us and makes all defeat. 
But I — beheve! 

She leans over Abelard's body, embracing it. 



ACT IV] ABELARD AND HELOISE 215 

This is not twilight now. 
You are about me brightly in the air. 
Shine, then, upon this altar while I lay 
New vows upon it of more service to you. 

She looks up. 

For I'll Hve on and seek him out and win him 

Before I follow you to other fields. 

So hear me where you now are and be strong. 

Keep up the battle till I come to you. 

And watch, protect, and shield him. 

She turns her gaze again upon Abelard^s rigid jorm. 

Abelard ! 



Curtain. 



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